


Lost Cat, Please Help

by Discreet



Category: Worm - Wildbow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2018-12-16 05:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 49,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11822280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Discreet/pseuds/Discreet
Summary: Gold Morning is over, the worlds are rebuilding and Cauldron is finished. Or it should be. The sudden appearance of a new Case 53 threatens the new peace as everyone races to find out where this cat-like parahuman came from.





	1. Cat - One

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to try to keep this mostly canon-compliant, no crossovers, fusions or wildly AU elements. We'll see how that goes.

Cat watched the door where food-came-from, her patience running low. The man was late today. It was raining, maybe that was why, the city was being drowned. Cat disliked the rain, the cold seeped into her skin and she took forever to dry. But there were advantages as well, the streets had emptied making them just a little easier for Cat to go unnoticed.

The rain intensified, the drops so fat she could feel each one as they pounded against her. A thousand little hammers nailing her to the ground. The man was very late. Was he not here today? Cat knew very little about the man, he was tall with a doughy face and he showed up for a string of five days before disappearing for two. Had Cat gotten the count of days wrong? Sometimes that happened, but no, when she thought of it, the garbage trucks had come yesterday and the garbage trucks always came the day before the man's schedule started again.

Water crept into Cat's eyes and she shook it off with a frustrated hiss, but it was a futile effort, the rain would not let up. Cat's jaw tightened, food had been scarce the past few days, her usual haunts failing her. And now this, the man was not showing up and she hated him for that. Of course, as little as Cat knew of the man, he knew nothing of her. He had no idea she had been waiting for him, did not even know she existed. Still, Cat could not help but blame him.

If he wasn't coming, then there was no point in waiting any longer. Cat raised herself off her knees and crept out of her crevice into the alley. Cat would have to find her dinner elsewhere. The old woman at the hill might have something - though she hadn't for several days. More likely than not, Cat would have to go another night without food.

It was with that sour thought that Cat's focus slipped. The splatter of the rain masked the unfamiliar footsteps and when the door where food-came-from was wrenched open, Cat was completely unprepared.

At the doorway was a man, but not the one she was expecting. This man was thin everywhere except his belly. He wore tattered shorts and an undershirt that let his belly hang out like a pregnancy. In his hands was not a black bag of half-finished food, but instead wads of green paper and a dark metal shape.

A gun. Cat remembered the guns.

"What the fuck!?" The strange man shouted.

Cat froze, staring at him. Cat was not supposed to be seen. But here this man was looking right at her. Idiot, dumb, moron Cat. A moment's carelessness would cost her everything.

"Are you real?" He asked incredulously. He seemed entranced by her. His pupils were cartoonishly wide, big black dots in the white of his eyes.

Maybe if she stood perfectly still, he would think she was just a delusion. Maybe he would walk away.

The gun went up, pointing at her.

"Answer me!" He shouted.

Cat hissed, instinctive, a low whistle in the back of her throat. Her hairs stood up straight, her claws extended.

The man yelped and the gun went off. For a moment, Cat was blind. And then pain. Like her jaw had been ripped off. Cat didn't process it, only dimly aware as her body moved on its own, launching itself at the man.

The gun fired again, but the shot went wide. As Cat sped up, her mind seemed to slow. Her body was moving so fast, so much all at once, a foot, a hand, each one moving before her mind even realized they were there. There was a third shot, but it only pinged off the concrete.

Cat pounced on the man and crashing into him feet first, her claws dug into his chest and they went down together. Before they even hit the ground, Cat turned her hands on his face. She raked her claws across his eyes and the man howled. His hands went up to his face, gun and any idea of fight forgotten. Weakness, exposing himself. Cat grasped his skull and yanked it to the side, baring his neck. Her jaw ached in protest, but it moved nonetheless and her fangs clamped tight against the man's throat.

Blood gushed into her mouth - the bitter taste of iron on her tongue. She ripped out a chunk of meat and the man's shouting turned to a strangled rasp as blood began to pour out of him. The meat was foul, however fresh. Cat spat it out.

Time resumed its normal pace and Cat was left staring at the man. His head hung on by a hunk of meat, but it wobbled as the rain fell on it, the wide eyes now half-lidded, vacant. She considered him for a moment, but shook the thought out of her head. She wasn’t that hungry yet. Cat cleared her throat and spat again.

Her hands were stained red, the blood clinging to her fur even as the rain poured down. It felt oily, like a slime. Cat stood, the front-half of her body was completely coated in the substance. She would need to thoroughly wash herself to -

A stab of pain lanced through Cat interrupting her thoughts. She felt her jaw and winced again. Tentatively, a little more gentle, Cat inspected the wound. It was a deep gash across her cheek, the bullet had torn straight through her mouth and come out the other end. She could feel the exposed teeth where her cheek should have been.

This was why she couldn’t afford to be seen. People were dangerous.

The blood dripped down onto her chest. Was there more of her blood on her than his? The thought made Cat dizzy and the rain only made it worse.The pitter-patter was insistent, stabbing any sense out of her. Cat only wanted to get out from under it. She needed to be warm.

But first rest. Her jaw ached and bled and her eyes begged to be closed. The door where food-came-from hung open, the man had never closed it. Cat walked towards it. The need to not-be-seen seemed not so important now. Cat only wanted to be dry.

Cat went inside, but did not go far. She went only ten paces tracking wetness and blood on the tile floor before deciding that this was good enough. Not even shaking the water off her wet fur, Cat bowed her head, curled into a ball and fell asleep. Everything would be okay, Cat told herself, she just needed some rest.

* * *

Sirens woke Cat. That howling noise that would grow and fade as the cars sped by. Except this one was not fading, it only blared at her.

"This is the police!" A woman shouted, her voice muffled by a wall.

"If anyone's there, come out with your hands up!" Another voice spoke up, a man.

Two of them which was two too many. By the sound of it, they were on the other side of the hallway Cat had taken up in. Only a single door separated them. Slowly, Cat unfurled herself - dried blood flaking off as she stretched - and got to her feet. Her jaw ached with a dull pain, but she ignored it. The rain had stopped, nothing to cover her footsteps. She would simply have to be quiet.

Cat could hear the crunch and crinkle of the police's footsteps. Definitely only two and they were drawing closer. Silently, Cat made her way to the alley door which remained open by only a slight crack, the wind must have shut it.

"-christ." A man whispered from behind the door.

Cat froze and turned her ears to the alley door.

"What the fuck did this?" Another said.

Silence between the two. Or three. Or four. Or however many more there were behind the door. The alley was not safe either. Cat's heart began to thump in her chest as she reversed her step and looked back to the hallway.

The crunch of footsteps continued, pressing towards her. Trapped, Cat realized, like a rat.

There was another pair of doors in the hallway that went deeper into the building. Both had plastic plaques with white scribbling, but Cat didn't have time to tell the difference between the two. She ducked into the closest one.

Darkness, but her eyes adjusted quickly. It was a room full of shelves and those shelves were full of boxes. Cat hid behind the one furthest from the door and tried to steady her breathing. She needed to be silent. To be in control again. How had she gotten herself into this mess?

Hunger. Cat had just been hungry. Too many nights gone by without enough to eat. The man with the bags had only been the latest in a string of bad luck. None of the others had been good for food either: the old woman on the hill, the hairy man with the truck or the squat little church.

And then Cat noticed a smell. A faint trace of sweetness. Tangy. Cat angled her nose into the air and sniffed. Quiet on her feet, she followed the smell to a box, the bottom half of which was damp. Cat gave it a lick and beside dry cardboard, she could taste mango.

Her craving was irresistible. Cat tore open the box and looked for the fruit inside, but only saw metal cans. Were the mangos underneath? Cat picked up a can and looked, but saw only more cans.

There was a long drawn out squeal as a door opened and two set of footsteps entered the hallway. Immediately Cat scampered back to her hiding place. Cat could not allow herself to be seen, not twice in so little time. However hungry she may be, being seen had put her in this position. Who knew what would happen the second time?

A door opened, but not the one to her room. It was the room adjacent. The walls were thin enough that Cat had no trouble hearing them.

"Fuck," the policewoman said.

"Fuck," her partner agreed.

"Call it in, I'll check the other room."

"Alright." And then the male police officer started to rattle off names and numbers.

More concerning to Cat was the policewoman. She was going to check the 'other room'. Cat's room. Cat tensed - she realized she had brought the can with her and clutched it tight.

The door swung open and a beam of light swept the room, illuminating all in its cone. Cat snuck a peek through a gap in the shelf and saw the policewoman standing at the doorway, feet wide, one hand holding a flashlight, the other a gun.

Cat's eyes fixed on the gun and her jaw twinged with pain. Her hairs started to rise, but Cat forced herself still. She only needed to keep quiet. Don't see me, she chanted in her head, don't see me.

The cone of light went over hiding spot, stopped. Then went on again.

"Anything in there?" The man called to the woman.

"Maybe," she replied, "Power's still out. Can't see much. Help me check the aisles."

Cat bit her tongue. She wanted to yell, to shout at them, go away, go away. But that would have done her no good. No good at all.

A second beam of light materialized and together the two police officers began to move into the room.

Cat would have to move to the end of the aisle, hide on the thin end as they checked each. If she could slip past after they looked...

"I'm gonna go on the far side, you stay on this one. We'll go through aisle by aisle."

Cat heart ached in her chest. They were going to find her, they were, they were going to see her. Her jaw began to burn like it had been shot all over again.

The police officers were on either side of each aisle now and with a quiet nod to the other, they began to clear the aisles. Their guns were still drawn.

Cat looked frantically for an exit. For a window to clamber out of, a vent to crawl through, for anything that would get her out of here. They were going to find her! They were going to-

"Hey, you see that?"

Cat froze, but the light wasn't on her. The police were still two aisles over.

Two aisles over - Cat peered again where the flashlights converged. It was the box where she had tasted mango, where she had gotten the can.

"There's a trail."

Cat looked down at the floor. Saw the sticky splotches of mango juice following her. Idiot! A trail that led straight to her! Idiotidiotidiotidiot! She had to get away from it. Cat set the can down and then without another thought, she began to scale the shelf.

Cat was light, nothing but fur, skin and bones. Her limbs quick, precise, her feet and hands sure and steady. She could still hide.

The police moved away from the aisle, a little faster than before. They barely checked the one before hers. They had a trail. Cat needed to be higher.

They turned into her aisle, guns cocked, but the lights swept the floor, following the trail. They converged on the can. Cat hung onto the top shelf, squished between it and the ceiling. Her body ached from the contortion, worst of all her, jaw felt as if it was going to fall off.

The two police officers walked into the aisle, meeting each other halfway. The woman bent down and picked up the can, she sniffed it.

"Mango."

"What?"

"It's canned mango."

The man stared at his partner. Go away, Cat willed them, talk about it somewhere else, just go away. Instead the man asked, "So. What does that mean?"

"I... I don't know. Just... Why is it here? Why pick up a single can and then bring it _deeper_ into the storage room? It doesn't make sense."

The man gave a small laugh. "You saw the guy in the other room. None of this shit makes sense."

"Yeah," the woman mumbled. She turned the can around, trying to make sense of it. Her flashlight reflected off the surface, every groove and angle of the can popping out. And there dull against the metal were the tiny indents of claws. Cat hadn’t even realized her claws had extended.

The policewoman stared at the can and a connection must have been made or a memory resurfaced or maybe she just had a spark of intuition, too many coincidences lining up for it to mean anything else. Whatever it was, the woman looked up, the ray of her flashlight following her eyeline.

Cat had no time to escape before she was bathed in light. They saw her.

She didn't freeze this time.

"The f-"

Cat bolted. She needed to run. Run, run, run. Her whole body focused on that need, legs and feet scrambling, pushing off whatever was near. Her jaw still ached, the blood caking her fur, the flash of the gun echoing in her head. Run, run, run.

The beam of light blossomed, surrounding her like an explosion, but it didn’t burn, only illuminated. Cat smacked against something hard and tumbled head over heels. The world spun wildly around her, but Cat reoriented herself in midair, landing firmly on all four limbs. She looked up trying to assess the threat and though she knew better now, she froze at what she saw. The police were gone, the shelves and boxes all gone. She was no longer in a storage room, not even in the same building, but something like the lobby of a modern office building. Immaculate tiled floor, wide glass panes rather than walls. And people. A lot of people, so many people. They surrounded Cat, a perfect circle of attention all focused on her.

Then something flashed. Like a gun, but silent. The people were holding plastic rectangles in front of them. And then as if the first had been a signal, all the rectangles began to light up. Pinpoint stars of light that stabbed at Cat’s retinas.

“Ugh, what the fuck…” A voice groaned from - from beneath Cat!

Cat leapt five feet straight up and off the man who lay sprawled on the ground. He wore a white paneled bodysuit and across the surface of the panels were clock faces. He turned around to look at Cat and she saw that where his face should have been, there was instead another clock.

Cat paled at the sight. No time to figure out where she was or what kind of monster she was facing. She needed to _run_. Her legs tensed, muscles tightening with explosive energy and when she landed, Cat catapulted forward.

A man in a golden suit of armor leapt in her way and made to grasp at her, but she angled her feet across the bend of his wrist and kicked off, soaring over his head and most of the crowds. The rectangles twinkled with light below. 

She landed far away from the crowd, the entrance of the lobby ahead of her. She could see the street beyond the glass doors. But she didn’t recognize it at all. What part of the city was she in?

The thought was interrupted as Cat was yanked back. A hand wrapped around her ankle and _pulled_. Cat threw her claws out, digging into the floor, desperately trying to squirm away, but the hand was iron, it had no room to give. Cat shot a look back and regretted it instantly. A moss-green hulk of machinery, sleek like a lizard, but its massive size made it seem more like a dragon.

And it had Cat.

Cat thrashed in the dragon-suit’s grip, yowling madly. Where had all these people come from and why were they chasing her? She just wanted to be left alone. Run, run, run, the thought filled her head again. Her eyes screwed tight, blocking out all unnecessary information as she focused everything on getting away. Run, run, run, RUN RUN RUN.

Light doused Cat like a waterfall, all encompassing, piercing even her own eyelids and she felt herself sliding away. The hand on her ankle loosened and Cat took off, feet scrambling forward. She burst out into a rain-slick street and slammed head-first into a car whose alarm immediately went off. 

Cat clutched her head in pain, tears welling in her eyes. Why was this happening? _What_ was happening? All she wanted was to eat. Nothing made sense, she didn’t even know _where_ she was. Cat forced an eye open and looked around. She sucked in a deep breath, hope blooming for a second. She recognized this street! This was the street where -

“Hey!” The police woman burst out of the deli, her gun drawn. “Freeze!”

Cat mewled piteously and screwed her eyes tight. What did she do to deserve this. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone?

A flash of light washed over Cat, but no bullet followed it up. She was back in the lobby with too many people. Cat didn’t even care anymore. She curled up into a ball and waited to die.

Men and women shouted, the words meaningless, but no doubt arguing how to kill her. They spoke too much, why couldn’t they just shut up and do it?

And then they shut up. A silence, so absolute that all Cat could hear was her own sniffling. She looked up, curiosity overriding her misery.

A girl with wings knelt over Cat. She wore a metal breastplate and a silver helm that left her face open. The girl’s eyes were green like the sea. Cat stared at her transfixed, the crowd of people forgotten.

The girl smiled and patted Cat’s head.

“There, there, little kitty,” the girl said.

At first Cat was frozen stiff. Unsure of when the hand would turn into a viselike grip, throttle her or snap her in half. But it never did.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” The girl sang quietly like a lullaby and the tension began to ebb away. The words, the hand, the girl’s eyes were impossibly gentle. Cat let out a long purr. The petting was rhythmic, the strokes deep and slow. Cat’s heartbeat began to relax to match it. Today had been too much. Cat was so tired.

“It’s alright now,” the girl cooed, “You don’t have to run anymore.”

Cat closed her eyes and leaned into the hand. She didn’t know why, but she believed the girl.


	2. Cat - Two

The cat-like Case 53 hissed, her teeth bared.

"Now, now kitty," Valkyrie cooed, gesturing to the oversized bath, "It's fine, it's just water, it can't hurt you."

Spit flew from the catgirl's mouth as it hissed again, sizable enough that it could be seen even through the video monitor.

"I don't recognize her," Weld said, his eyes not leaving the screen. It wasn't as if he knew every Case 53, but he knew a lot of them. Heard of a lot, too.

Not this one, though. The closest thing to an animal-human hybrid Weld could think of was Canary. But Canary's mutations were barely noticeable, her feathers so few and far in-between it was more cosmetic than anything, like extensions for her hair. This was just the opposite. This cat-human hybrid was covered from head-to-toe in orange fur with a large splotch of white over her chest and stomach. No doubt it was covering her Cauldron tattoo as well. Her general form was human, her body, her arms and legs and hands, but then there was everything else, the details. The ears, the face, the tail and just the way she carried herself, always on her toes, ready to bolt at a moment's notice, it was definitively cat-like.

"I don't think she was ever in the asylum, either," Sveta added. Her tentacles squirmed as she mentioned her old cage. "What about _you_?" Sveta asked, the accusation leaking through.

The blue-costumed man at the back of the room flinched. He recovered quick enough, he was a seasoned veteran. "I don't know either,” Legend said neutrally, “I was never very involved in that part of Cauldron's operations."

"Hm," Sveta murmured.

Chevalier cleared his throat and stepped forward, putting his armored body between Weld and Legend. His helmet was off, but his face was expressionless as he spoke. "There's no records of her in the old PRT database either, but that was never a comprehensive list. There are still a lot of Case 53s - and capes for that matter - we don't know about."

 _No need to jump to conclusions_ , Weld could feel him say. No need to imagine Cauldron returning from the dead to poison more people and warp them into something inhuman.

On the screen, Valkyrie moved over to the bath and started splashing the water with her hands, echoing little ooh's and ah's to make it seem more welcoming. The cat was having none of it, planting herself in the corner farthest from the water.

Despite himself, Weld cracked a smile.

"You're right, Chevalier," he said, leaning away from the monitor, "It's probably nothing."

Sveta tightened around him but was silent.

"Well," Chevalier smiled wryly, "I wouldn't go that far. Her timing couldn't have been worse. The press conference was a disaster." He sighed. "But that's my job to sort out, not your's."

Weld smiled sympathetic, but that was more automatic than anything. Chevalier was... _approachable_. He was the leader of the Wardens, but that had never made him seem distant. He didn't worry so much about showing his face or marching along with all the other capes who couldn't fly. Powerful, but still down-to-earth, he was nothing like the old Triumvirate. People liked him. Weld liked him.

But did Weld trust him?

"Heh," Legend chuckled and Weld shot him a look, but the former member of Cauldron was only watching the monitor.

Valkyrie had conjured a ghostly figure at her side and held huge ball of water over her head. She gestured at the ball, menacing the wilting catgirl. The catgirl desperately meowed, backing up against the tiled wall, but there was nowhere to go. One way or another, the catgirl was getting washed.

"Weld," Chevalier spoke up, "Can you go down and help Valkyrie? Make sure she doesn't scare away our potential recruit?"

Weld frowned. Were they shooing him out? Did Chevalier and Legend need a private conversation about this new development?

Chevalier saw the look on Weld's face and mistook it for something else. "Or if you know someone else who could get her used to her new surroundings?"

It took a moment for Weld to realize what Chevalier was saying.

"No, it's fine," Weld said, "I'll do it."

Case 53s should help Case 53s, right? It bothered Weld that Chevalier had asked, but it bothered him more than that Chevalier had _needed_ to ask. He had been too paranoid to remember that this was someone who was lost and confused. Someone who needed help.

Weld left the security room and began making his way to the special bathing facilities. A place that had been built specifically for people like him.

"Weld?" Sveta whispered, her head shifted close to his ear.

"Yeah?"

"You really think it's nothing?"

Weld’s fist clenched. "Maybe."

* * *

"Last chance, kitty. Get in the bath," the green-eyed girl said, her voice low and menacing.

Cat turned tail and ran, scrambling across the slippery tile floor until she was at the door, bulky and metal, there was no knob only a wheel to turn. Cat grabbed at the wheel, but the thing didn't even budge. It was locked.

The green-eyed girl stalked closer, a wisp of a man hovered at her side the same color as her eyes and the orb of water above her head swelled in size.

Cat didn't know what happened. Everything had been so nice, shelter from the rain and the first warm meal Cat had had in months. It had been her salvation, an oasis in the desert. And she had the green-eyed girl - Ciara she called herself - to thank for it. Ciara had been so kind and gentle, so warm. Cat had dropped her guard, exposed herself. And now Ciara was trying to _bathe_ her. It was just too much.

Claws slid out from her finger-tips, two inches of razor-sharp bone. Cat slashed at the metal door, once, twice, but did not even scratch the surface.

A drop of water fell on Cat's head. Ciara loomed over her.

Cat squeezed her eyes shut and leapt to the side, the only thought in her head: RUN.

A light poured over her body and the air around Cat seemed to shift, the temperature dropping sharply. Run, run, run, she thought. She could feel her body growing compact getting further away from the madwoman and her water.

And then the light went out, the heat of the steam returned and Cat slipped and slid on her stomach across the tile floor. She looked up at Ciara who now had a second ghostly figure at her side, a giant of a man with a warped face.

"Did you just try to teleport?" Ciara asked, tilting her head and the orb of water shifted, rearing back.

Cat raised a hand, as if to hold Ciara back. "M-m-meow."

The water fell on her, a veritable lake dropped on her head. The water sloshed around, snaking through her fur, getting behind her ears and scrubbing between her toes. Shampoo entered the mix, bubbly with a sickeningly sweet smell, it coated her fur and made it clump together. The water swished around her again and every last scrap of dirt and grime was washed off.

The water bubble collapsed and Cat dropped to her knees gasping for breath. Her fur clung to her bones, no longer giving her body any volume.

"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Ciara said, smiling.

Cat hung her head and moaned a little meow.

"Just one thing, kitty."

Something in Ciara's voice sent chills down Cat's spine. She forced herself to look.

Ciara leaned forward, her hands on her knees so that that the two were face-to-face.

"Don't try to run away again, okay?"

Slowly, Cat nodded her head.

Ciara patted Cat. "Good kitty."

The green-eyed girl pulled away and stretched. "Try not to give Weld too much trouble, okay?"

The door swung open as if on cue and a man made of metal clomped into the room.

"Valkyrie," Weld started, "I-"

"Yes, yes," Ciara said, cutting him off, "I'll leave the little kitty in your care. I probably have an ‘urgent’ mission lined up anyways." She shot a look at Cat and Cat flinched. Was this really the same gentle girl as before? "The kitty shouldn't be too much trouble, should she?"

Cat shook her head vigorously, droplets of water flying off.

"Good," Ciara clapped a hand on the metal man's shoulder, careful not to touch the tentacled creature that was wrapped around him. "Then I trust you two to take care of her."

Before anyone could muster a response, Ciara walked out the door.

* * *

Cat pressed her face into the towel getting the last bits of wetness out of her fur. Her body had regained some of its normal volume, she no longer looked like a stick swamped with weeds. She circled herself, giving her body a full check. Tail back to a proper floof and her fur, Cat had to admit, was impeccably clean.

"Your fur's so pretty," the tentacled face - Sveta, Cat remembered - said.

Cat glanced at Sveta, still confused as to what she was. Not a human, not an octopus. Sveta didn’t really resemble either, although they were the closest. The face was the only part that looked human and the tentacles were too numerous and thin. Cat didn’t know what to think of Sveta. Or of the metal man. They were strange.

But Ciara had left them in charge of her and Cat did not dare cross Ciara again. She shuddered at the thought of the bath and tried to focus on how clean her fur was because Sveta was right, Cat looked fantastic.

"Want something to drink?" Weld said from behind the kitchen counter, one hand on the fridge door.

Cat meowed.

"I guess that's a yes. I don't suppose you could say what you'd like?"

Cat stared at Weld.

"Uh, well, we have soda, juice -"

"Milk!" Sveta piped up, "Cats like milk, right?"

But Cat snarled and shook her head.

Sveta pouted, confused, but Weld didn't miss a beat. "How about just water?"

This time Cat meowed her approval.

Weld filled a glass of water and took a juicebox from the fridge. He brought them over to the couch which dominated the lounge. The furniture was plush, modern, brightly colored and all carefully reinforced to account for the weight of an eight-hundred pound metal man. Nevertheless the couch audibly creaked as Weld sat on it and set the drinks down. Cat hopped onto the far-side of the couch and grasped the glass of water with both hands to drink her fill.

Weld smiled, but his focus was on the juicebox, he pricked the top with a straw before redirecting the it to his attached partner, Sveta. Her face couldn't move much but the straw helped.

They drank in silence before Weld had to speak up again.

“I don’t know how else to ask this, but do you have a name?”

Cat stared at him.

“I know that’s not a yes or no question, but if you can’t say, could you write it down?”

Writing. Cat knew it had to do with those scribbles she would see occasionally. They covered placards and signs and doors, but Cat never knew what they meant, much less how to make them herself. Cat set the glass down with a frown before she had to shake her head. 

“Uh,” Sveta interjected, “Sorry if this comes off as weird, but you have _tried_ to speak before, right? Like in english or anything?”

“Sveta…” Weld glanced down at his partner.

“I know, I know, but it’s not that weird of a question. When I first woke up, I, I...” Sveta closed her eyes and breathed, composing herself. When she opened her eyes again, there was a determined glint to them. “I didn’t really know what was going on. I could understand people, but I was so unfamiliar with-” another forceful pause, the tentacles twitched. Sveta breathed and went on, “With my body that I just kinda forgot how to speak. Like, I knew the words, but I had to relearn _how_ to say them. You know what I mean?”

“That… does make sense,” Weld admitted, “Now that I think of it, when I woke up there was no one around for miles. I didn’t really start talking until people found me.” Weld looked at Cat. “Maybe it’s the same for you?”

Cat stared at the two of them. Speaking? Like a human? It was impossible.

But the idea was in her head now and it festered. Humans liked to talk, they did so incessantly, it was from them that Cat learned all the names they had for food and which tasted best. She remembered the humans saying her name. She thought of how their lips, teeth and tongue would come together to push out one sound after another until a word formed. Cat spread her mouth open, mimicking the motion of so many humans who had shouted after her. From the back of her throat she spoke.

“KAH-tuht.”

Weld blinked. “You mean, Cat?”

Cat nodded. “Kaht.”

“Cat.”

“Cat.” As Cat said her name, she felt a wave of clarity come over her as if a cloud had been lifted from her eyes. The sound was so simple now that it was off her tongue. Why had she never thought she could speak like human?

“Cat!” She said again.

Weld broke out into a smile. “That’s it.” He held out a hand. “It’s good to properly meet you Cat.”

Cat looked down staring at the metal hand. She had seen the humans do something like this as well. But why would Cat? Shaking hands with Weld - a hulking metal man - would be like putting herself in cuffs. She’d be helpless if he decided to squeeze.

Weld let the hand drop, but his smile remained. “We’ll work on that. You’ve got a lot to learn, but me and Sveta will be more than happy to help.”

“Whatever you need, just let us know,” Sveta added cheerfully, “After all you’re one of us.”

One of them? Cat was confused. She was nothing like them.

But it wouldn’t do to say that, Cat knew that much. They were offering her a place here. Here where there was warm food and a roof over her head. So what if all the people were so strange. So long as they kept Cat fed, she didn’t mind. She could play along.

“Oh-kay,” Cat said.


	3. Cat - Three

“A ‘t’ followed by an ‘h’ makes a ‘th’ sound. Like ‘thought’ or ‘thunder’. It, uh...”

Cat let out a massive yawn, her tongue curling as she bared her fangs. The teacher looked up from the book to stare, her eyes following Cat’s mouth as it tilted back.

“I, uh, where was I?”

Cat slumped on the desk, her head falling into folded arms. She needed a nap. After all, there was going to be seven more hours of this nonsense.

* * *

A man wearing a red jacket and hat stood over a lifeless body. He knelt down beside the body and put his hand over it’s face, .

“Alright, so first thing you’re gonna want to do,” the man in red said, “Is check if the person is breathing.”

Cat took a step closer and poked at the body with her toe. It was rubber. A rubber man. Was it like Weld?

“No poking,” the man said.

But Cat ignored the man in red and focused on the threat. She poked the body again, watching its empty eyes the whole time, waiting for it to spring up and attack.

* * *

“Now repeat after me: Sally sells seashells by the seashore.”

“Thally thells…” Cat shut her mouth. She already knew it was wrong.

Her head hit the desk with a fat _clunk_. Would this hell ever end?

* * *

Cat lay curled atop the bookshelf, stewing in souring memories. No matter how good the food, no matter how dry her bed, Cat could only take so much abuse. She had played along, doing all Weld and Ciara asked, but it was never enough, finish one lesson and they had another lined up for her.

Well enough was enough. Cat had to make a stand, had to make it clear just how insane it all was. Cat unfurled herself from her angry little ball and crept to the edge of the shelf. Below her, a girl lay in bed reading peacefully. Ciara - no longer with wings or armor, just an ordinary girl - was totally unaware of what Cat was plotting.

Cat leapt down from the shelf and landed quietly on the desk opposite. Ciara finally noticed, she set aside her book to observe Cat.

Good, Cat wanted her to see. Cat circled the desk, stepping over papers, books and a lamp. She looked up and met Ciara's gaze. Maintaining eye contact the whole time, she put her hand on a pile of books and pushed. They toppled over, but Cat's satisfaction was cut short when they didn't scatter across the floor. Instead the books hung suspended mid-air.

Cat leapt off the desk with a hiss. She bounced between wall and bookshelf until she was safely back at her perch. Cat didn't know much, but she knew _books weren't supposed to float_. She peered over the edge and saw the books rotating in the air, reorienting as they neatly placed themselves back onto the desk as if they had never moved at all.

Ciara smiled and went back to reading her own book. Cat glared at her. Ciara had done something, but Cat didn't dare to find out what. Living on the streets for as long as Cat had had taught her how to recognize the dangerous ones. Everyone to a certain degree was dangerous - which was why Cat preferred to avoid them altogether - but there was something about Ciara that made Cat’s hairs stand up.

Before Cat could figure that mystery out, she heard a steady clonk of footsteps. There was only one person _that_ could be. Cat curled back into a ball and revived her sour mood. Weld was always bothering her about more lessons or how she needed to pay attention. If she couldn’t take her revenge on Ciara, she’d had to find a way to get to Weld instead.

The footsteps stopped and a knock came at the door.

“Come in,” Ciara said without looking up.

Weld entered the room and he looked tattered. Not his body which remained chiseled steel, but his clothes were pockmarked with holes and cuts. Even more curious, Sveta wasn’t attached to him.

“Hey Ciara,” Weld said, “How are you?”

“Just fine,” Ciara replied, not looking up from her book, “And you?”

“Had a busy day, nothing too bad, but real busy.”

“Hm,” Ciara hummed.

The conversation blunted, Weld got to the point. “Have you seen Cat around?”

Ciara peeked over the top of her book and Cat tensed, praying that Ciara was in a good mood.

“Why do you ask?” Ciara replied neutrally.

“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s been a hard week for me and Sveta taking on the Carnival, but I know it’s been tough on Cat too. I figured we could all use a treat, so I got us something special for dinner.” Weld paused, considering. “You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”

Ciara smiled, but shook her head. “No, but thank you. You’re very kind, Weld.”

Weld stared for a moment before he recovered. “It’s nothing. No big deal.” He looked over his shoulder. “I better get back. Sveta is waiting on me to start to dinner. If you see Cat, let her know we’re in lounge five.”

“I’ll do that. Enjoy.”

Weld gave her a nod and left.

Ciara turned the page in her book.

“What are you waiting for?” Ciara’s eyes were on her book, but the question was for Cat.

Cat peered over the edge of the shelf. She could still hear the clomp of Weld's footsteps. "He might see if I leave now."

"Ah, right." Ciara smiled from behind the pages. "Wouldn't want to give up this hiding spot, right?"

Cat disliked the satisfaction in Ciara's tone. As if Cat only remained here at Ciara's behest. It was _true_ , but to suggest so, pricked at Cat. Still Ciara was Ciara, Cat didn't dare defy her.

"Weld really is very kind," Ciara said suddenly, "You can trust him more than you think. He can be strict sometimes, but he wants to help. Trust in that."

Cat stared at Ciara, trying to get a read on her, but the girl refused to look up from her book. She was forever an enigma. With an annoyed huff, Cat leapt down from the shelf and left the room, mindful to close the door behind.

She padded quietly to the lounge, turning Ciara's words over in her head. Trust Weld? More than if she could, why _should_ she? What was there to gain by _trusting_ someone?

Cat thought to Weld's last reprimand after the most recent botched lesson and her fur bristled. The metal man had the nerve to _lecture_ her! On and on, he went about responsibility and teamwork and improvement and all that other nonsense as if it mattered even a lick. One of these days she would have to show Weld...

Cat caught a whiff of a smell wafting through the hallway. It smelled _delicious_. Her mouth already salivating, Cat went into the lounge.

"Oh you made it!" Sveta called out.

Cat didn't reply, her eyes were on the table where a number of take-out containers had been set out. Center among them was a modest tin container packed tight with salted fish.

"I got your favorite," Weld said.

Cat marched up to the table, laser-focused on her target. She snatched up a fish and immediately started to nibble on it.

Sometimes Weld was alright.

* * *

Chevalier wasn't a second in the meeting room before the blue-caped superhero started complaining.

"I don't like this. Keeping secrets," Legend said.

Chevalier closed the door behind him, locking it before he took a seat next to Legend.

"If it makes you feel better," Chevalier said, "Neither do I."

"It's what the old Protectorate did. What Cauldron did."

Chevalier nodded. "I understand your concerns."

But really? He was annoyed. Talking about the 'old' Protectorate and Cauldron as if Legend hadn't been a part of it? As if he hadn't been at the head of them?

Chevalier was careful not to let his eyes drift to the side where a shade hovered beside Legend. Years with his power had made the restraint of instinct easy, but Legend's shade was particularly eye-catching. A twisting mote of golden light, it stretched and warped constantly, one moment a silhouette of Legend, the next a miniature sun, rays spreading out. It was hard to see it and not think of Scion.

Focus. Focus on the person, Chevalier reminded himself.

Legend's eyes were downcast. Fixed on the table.

"If you don't want to do this..." Chevalier said, leaving the end open.

"No," Legend looked up, his jaw set, "It's fine."

Was that the same conviction he used to justify what Cauldron did?

Chevalier didn't ask, instead he pulled out a printed sheet of paper. He set it on the table and pushed it in front of Legend.

The image was poor, shoddy black-and-white like an ultrasound, but this wasn't a picture of a baby. It was a letter.

Three equal length lines, two perfectly parallel and a third connecting them diagonally end-to-end, but it wasn't lined up perfectly. The third line was tilted a fraction too much, its edges hung out over the other lines.

Legend turned his head, eyes narrowing, trying to figure if the letter was either a 'Z' or an 'N'. Chevalier watched the man's reaction carefully. The golden shade, narrowed and spun in a circle, but as always, Chevalier had no idea what to make of it.

"What is this supposed to be?" Legend asked.

"You've never seen it before?" Chevalier asked back.

Legend looked up and met his eyes. "Never."

Chevalier believed him which complicated things.

"You remember the new Case 53 we found?"

"Of course, hard to forget with an entrance like that."

"She had a medical exam today. Doctors picked this up while doing an image scan. This-" Chevalier tapped the letter "-was underneath the fur, tattooed on her back."

Legend stared.

"It was her only tattoo," Chevalier said.

Legend sat back in his seat, a hand going to his eyes. "She's not Cauldron."

Chevalier leaned forward. "Can you say that with certainty? Did they have any other experiments going on? Did the tattoos mean anything else?"

"I," Legend let out a long sigh, "I can't say for _certain_. They- Contessa and Doctor Mother, they always had another plan in the works. They worked on Cauldron from every angle. But the tattoos? It was always a 'C'. I can't think of why they would change it."

"But they could've," Chevalier asserted.

Legend frowned, looking at Chevalier. "I suppose. But when? And why?"

Those weren't questions Chevalier could answer. They weren't questions he _ever_ expected an answer because he agreed with Legend. Cauldron didn't do this.

As much as Chevalier didn't want to imagine it, it felt undeniable. Someone had taken up Cauldron's mantle, someone out there was making capes.

"Legend," Chevalier said, "Have you stayed in touch at all with the other Cauldron members?"

Legend flinched. "No! I haven't seen any of them since Gold Morning."

"Could you find them?" Chevalier asked.

There was an audible clack and grind of teeth from Legend. His eyes had turned hard. "Is that an order?"

"Does it have to be?" Chevalier asked.

For a moment, Chevalier thought Legend would say yes purely out of spite. The former leader of Triumvirate forever in the shadow of his past sins. But beneath it all Chevalier knew, all Legend had ever wanted to do was help people.

"No," he said finally.

"Good," Chevalier said, "Because we're going to have to keep this tight. I don't want any of the Wardens finding out until we know more."

Legend nodded, resolute.

"I'm gonna need you to get in touch with whoever was involved in the inner workings of Cauldron."

"Most of them are dead or otherwise unreachable."

"Find whoever you can, I know the organization was bigger than just the top members. If Cauldron had a few people they consistently went to for 'favors', find them. Don't let them know about Cat if they don't already."

"Okay," Legend said, "I can do that."

"I'll keep an eye on our new recruit and any more like her. If we're lucky, we might discover a clue from her."

Legend smiled wryly. "If we're lucky?"

Chevalier smiled back, standing, "Yeah, I know. Let's get to work."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the short chapter, but chapter 4 will probably come out faster because of it.


	4. Cat - Four

### Three Weeks Later

Cat leapt onto the rooftop and landed on all fours. She waited a moment, ears perked, keen on any scuffling feet or shouted alarms, but there was nothing. No one had heard her.

“Your target’s inside,” Weld’s voice buzzed in her ear, “Keep in mind, he’s got civilian hostages, so you’ll have to take him out quick.”

Cat didn’t respond. Weld liked reminding her about things she already knew too much for her to take that away from him. That and she didn’t care to betray herself with even an inkling of sound. Cat moved to the building’s ledge, each step measured, her weight distributed perfectly. She hooked her feet around the lip of the rooftop and leaned out, hanging upside down. She stretched just far enough that she could peer into the window.

Her target - a square-jawed man with a buzz cut, a black tank-top and an uzi - sat behind a pair of kneeling men with their hands behind their head. He was lounging on the couch, watching television, the uzi loose in his hand.

Cat retracted back onto the rooftop and considered her options. No use in talking, Weld had been clear her target would not back down and Cat still wasn't very good at the 'negotiating' bit. Going through the front door was out of the question, her target and the hostages too far back in the room for her to reach them in time. Which only left the window.

Cat growled. The window would be a pain to open and if something went wrong, she’d be dropping five stories. Not the _worst_ height Cat had fallen, but she didn’t care to make it a regular occurrence. It was hell on her knees.

She couldn't just burst into the room either, the target was relaxed, but he seemed alert enough. He'd make mincemeat out of the hostages before she could get to him. She would need to go in through another window, one of the adjacent rooms.

Cat crawled along the edge until she was above another window. She hung over it, making sure it was clear. A bedroom, it was immaculate if a little dusty like something on display in the window. Otherwise, though, it was empty.

Cat pulled herself back up and gauged the distance. The windowsill was a few feet down and only had a few inches of width, it'd be tight, but she could do it. Without a second thought, Cat swung down feet first, her toes planted on the windowsill, claws extended for better grip. Her hands pressed against the sides of the window to secure herself.

The muscles in her feet tensed, her whole body balanced precariously on the thin windowsill. A gust of wind kicked up against her back, stirring her fur up and her heart spiked as she felt herself tilt. The claws in her hands extended, cutting deep into the building wall and she weathered the gale.

When the wind died down, Cat turned her attention back to the window. She gave herself a moment to calm down before checking that yes, the window was, locked. But that was easily fixable. Cat placed her index finger and thumb against the window, extended her claws and gave a quick twist of her wrist. A circle of glass popped out with a faint sound like paper tearing. More than quiet enough to be masked by the racket of a television. Cat reached into the hole and unlocked the window with a click.

This time when Cat tried the window, it slid open without a hitch. Cat crept inside and paused, ears perked. She heard the babble of the television and then the creak of the couch, but not a long drawn-out squeal from someone standing, just a faint whine, a shift in the weight.

Still unaware, still good. Cat went to the bedroom door, eased it open and saw the target. He sat in the couch with his back to her, his attention on the flashing screen in front of him. The situation was as perfect as she could hope for.

Cat stalked forward, moving on all fours. Capture the target, protect the hostages. She'd do it exactly how Weld had instructed her, that would show him, maybe he'd even relax a little.

She was right behind the man now, his eyes had never left the television screen. Cat stood, razor-sharp bone sliding out of each of her fingers.

She pressed a claw against the man's cheek, enough to make the flesh dent, but not to pierce.

"I win."

The target to his credit, didn't jump - that would have been a bad idea with the claw already pressed against him - he only turned his head to slowly look up at Cat. His eyes were wide, sweat had sprouted up along his forehead very suddenly.

"You got me," the man said, letting the uzi drop.

"I got you," Cat repeated and she pulled the claw away.

The target took the hint and slowly slid off the couch, lying flat on his stomach with his hands behind his head.

"Good work," Weld said, "Now bring the hostages back."

Cat rolled her eyes, formalities. She had already won, why couldn't they just wrap this up? Dinnertime was soon and Cat was hungry.

But no use arguing with Weld, he was an iron rod in mud, he wouldn't budge. Cat stepped over the neutralized target and started to cut at the hostages' bindings.

_Creak._

A floorboard being pressed on. A heavy footstep trying to be quiet.

Cat looked up. Where was it?

Front door.

It burst open and a man burst inside, in his hands was a machine gun.

Cat dove behind the couch as the room was peppered with gunfire. The bullets whistled overhead and burst on impact, scattering pink paint in fist-sized explosions.

Cat tapped into her communications and screamed over the put-put of the paintball gun.

"Weld! Another Target! You didn’t say!"

"Expect the unexpected, Cat. Intel's not always going to be perfect, better you learn now than out in the field."

Cat hissed at him. Hearing his voice, calm and collected while paint exploded around her was infuriating. She tore the communicator out of her ear and threw it at the floor, the damn thing had dampened her hearing, clouded her senses. That was it, it was all Weld's fault.

The paintball gun stopped. Was he reloading or baiting her out? Cat peeked over the edge of the couch, but ducked as a flurry of paintballs splattered against the couch.

How much ammo did the man have? He must have shot a thousand bullets already without reloading even once.

The onslaught of paintballs stopped again, daring her to try him.

Cat considered her options. Charge him, get shot. Push the couch, but she wasn't _that_ strong, it'd be slow. She'd get shot. Run away, go for the bedroom, but there was enough open space that Cat would probably get shot on her way there.

The wound on Cat's jaw had long healed, Ciara had fixed it with just a touch. But her body had other thoughts, it sent a twinge of pain down her jawline, a little reminder of the last time she faced down someone with a gun. Nevermind that this was only a paintball gun, her jaw bore a dull ache.

There was only one thing left to do, no matter how much Cat disliked it. Cat peeked out once more and ducked just as a paintball whistled through the space that her eye had occupied. Fifteen paces from the couch to the man. Fifteen, she repeated silently. Cat squeezed her eyes shut and focused. Run. Motion, putting one foot in front of another. Getting her body moving.

She saw it with her mind's eye and she readied to put it into action. She couldn't do it laying down, no matter how she visualized it. She needed to actually move.

Her legs coiled beneath her, muscles ready to spring.

Run, she thought.

She leapt forward, bursting out of the cover of the couch, but there was no man with a gun over the edge, only a flood of light. She pushed through and landed on the other side.

More specifically she landed on a table. Long, oak-wood, with a row of people in suits sitting on either side. A conference room for fussy business-types.

They gaped at Cat. One man's glasses slid down his nose.

Fifteen, Cat reminded herself. She bolted down the length of the table, counting the steps.

Men and women on either side of the table erupted in shouting, a few leaping out of their chairs as if they had been shocked. One man dived onto the table arms outstretched, trying to catch her.

Seven. Cat dashed beneath him, slipping under the table briefly and then hopped back up before anyone could think to kick at her.

Five. She saw a man pick up his chair.

Three. He wobbled briefly.

One. He hurled the chair at her.

Run.

Cat was sheathed in light one moment and then in the next, she emerged back in the apartment building, the man with the paintball gun directly in front of her.

And Cat was still running. The man yelped, turning the gun at her, but there wasn't enough time. Momentum was on Cat’s side, she pounced and knocked the man flat on his back, her atop him. Before he could move to throw her off or bring up his gun, she tapped a claw against his nose.

"I win," Cat said.

* * *

The briefing room was painfully drab, as dull and lifeless as the mock-apartment from the training exercise. The sad thing was, people actually used this room. Cat squatted in one chair, her chin on her knees. Across from her was a man in gold armor - Chevalier and four humans she had never met before, they all wore serious suits and even more serious expressions as they consulted a stash of papers in front of them. The five made for odd company, but they were at least human. Cat still didn’t know what to call Weld and Sveta besides their names. Weld stood at the head of the table in front of a projection screen, watching a video of Cat. Video-Cat was in the middle of freeing the hostages when her ears perked up and she dove for the couch. A second later, the door burst open and a man stepped into the room with a huge paintball gun.

The video stopped as Weld tapped the screen. “Okay, Cat, what’s wrong with this picture?”

Cat knew this. “You paused it,” she answered.

Sveta giggled and one of the suited humans scribbled something down.

“No,” Weld sighed, pointing at the screen, “There’s something wrong with what you did here.”

Cat stared at the screen. She had seen these things before, but until a few weeks ago, she would’ve never imagined seeing herself on it. Her fur looked especially fine today.

“Cat,” Weld pointed again at the screen, “Do you see the hostages?”

“Yes.” Cat did see the hostages. She never got to finish untying them.

“Okay, now watch them.” Weld tapped the screen and the video started again.

The man with the paintball gun burst into the room and unleashed a furious storm of paint-based munitions, coating the entire room - and the hostages - in a dull pink.

Weld paused the video again and he leaned forward on the table (dramatics, Cat noticed. He couldn’t really lean on it, Weld was too heavy). “You failed this mission, Cat. You might have neutralized the targets, but both of your hostages died.”

A failure? “But _I_ came out alive,” Cat said, “That means I won.”

Another scribble from one of the suits and Chevalier shifted in his seat to get a closer look of her.

But it was Weld that required Cat’s attention because Weld was actually mad. It didn’t show much, Weld’s poker face was impeccable, but for a moment he forgot himself, he really did lean on the table and it tilted a fraction. Sveta coiled tighter around him and that brought him back to his senses.

When he spoke, it was restrained. “You can’t say you won when you don’t protect the people who needed you.”

His hand went to the screen, swiping to the left to rewind. The video came to the moment when Cat stopped cutting the hostages free, her ears perked up.

“You stopped because you heard someone at the door. You knew something was wrong.” The video played, video-Cat diving behind the couch as the door was thrown open. “But you didn’t help the hostages. You didn’t even try.”

Cat watched Weld carefully, her legs tensing. “There was no time to save them,” Cat said, “You surprised me.”

“Maybe, but that’s not the point.” Weld let out a long breath. “You called this a win. I’m telling you it’s not. If that was real then people would have died. You need to get your priorities in order.”

They stared at one another for a long time, but there was no way Cat could beat a man with steel eyelids in a staring contest. She looked down at the table and huffed. It was just a stupid training exercise, what did it matter if some fake hostages got slathered with paint? Cat wasn’t going to risk her tail for them. What was the point if she got paint on her, too? Cat had put up with a lot of nonsense these past few weeks - weekly baths, classes with fussy teachers, curfews, wake-up calls - and now this?

Weld could be nice, but he always had rules for her, always telling her what to do. Sure there was a steady flow of food and a roof that didn’t leak, but sometimes Cat missed the streets. There she could do whatever she liked without anyone complaining to her that something “wasn’t right” or “that’s not how it’s done” or whatever.

“Cat,” Chevalier spoke up, interrupting her fuming, “Do you want to be a Warden?”

Cat froze. Was he threatening to kick her out? Her eyes narrowed as she studied the man. In contrast to Weld who was a literal stiff, Chevalier seemed relaxed. He wore a more compact version of his golden armor, form-fitting and sleek and he went without his helmet, baring his face. He had cool blue eyes and a tousled head of black hair that would have made him seem boyish were it not for hard lines of his jaw. He was a young man in his prime, but unmistakably a man. Relaxed as he was, when he spoke everyone looked his way.

And the question was a loaded one. If Cat told the truth, would they throw her out right then and there? She might’ve said or thought some things or broken a few rules here and there, but when it came down to it, Cat considered her behavior exemplary. She hadn’t clawed anyone too bad, had only broken a few things had and she listened to Weld _most_ of the time. They wouldn’t throw her out for not shielding some strangers from paint, would they?

“Is that a no?” Chevalier asked, filling in the silence.

No more time to delay.

“I want to be a Warden,” Cat lied.

“Do you?” Chevalier asked and it was a calm question, as if he was asking if she was sure about what she wanted for lunch.

“Yes,” Cat answered.

Chevalier glanced at Weld who looked back, lips pursed. Sveta shifted around him, her unease more obvious than his.

“There’s still a lot she doesn’t know yet,” Weld said.

“I understand,” Chevalier said, “But we need her. We need you and Sveta. I know you two work more hours than anyone else, but there’s still too much time spent on training when we’re already undermanned.” He looked at Cat. “And besides, I think Cat would learn better in the field than in a classroom, right?”

Cat definitely preferred the field exercises to the classroom so her answer was an obvious “Yes.”

Chevalier smiled. “Great. We’ll have a more involved ceremony later, but from this point on, you’re a Warden.”

He stood and held out a hand.

Cat stared at it. Weld had taught her what the handshake meant. Agreement, compromise, respect and so on. It was a varied and messy like most human things, but the gist was that you shook hands with someone you wanted to trust.

One more lie wouldn’t hurt. Cat reached out and shook the hand.


	5. Cat - Five

Not for the first time, Cat wondered what she had gotten herself into. She sat alone in the conference room and tried not to squirm in her chair. It was to be her first mission and she was going to do it with a team of strangers.

It wasn't supposed to be a dangerous mission, Weld assured her, he had made sure of it. But Weld had grown anxious ever since the meeting where Chevalier had welcomed her to Wardens and his anxiety had rubbed off on her. He had set out to cram as much information and training into Cat as he could before her first day out, so much so, that Cat had grown completely sick of him.

For the last few days she had been looking forward to the mission just so she could show Weld how pointless his babying of her was, but now that the day was here, Cat could not deny the knot of nervousness that twisted in her gut. Not that she could admit it. When Weld had offered her a chance to back out until she was - in his mind - "ready", she had hissed and spat at him, annoyed by his patronizing tone. He had gotten the message, shutting up finally, but now Cat was committed.

Cat jerked as she heard a noise and looked to the door. She stared, waiting tensed, but no one entered. Stupid, Cat muttered to herself, forcing herself to relax. Cat had never been good with strangers. Back on the streets, strangers met danger, here in the Warden's HQ, strangers meant boring lessons and exercises. Cat did not have high hopes for her teammates.

The door opened and Cat jumped in her seat. She hadn't heard a thing. A tall silver-suited woman walked into the room, although "walk" wasn't quite accurate. The woman certainly moved in the appropriate motion, one foot stepping in front of another, but each footstep seemed to last longer than necessary, carrying her farther than it should. Her walk was more of a skate and she slid into the room to take a seat at the head of the table.

Cat stared unashamed, but although the woman wore a mask that only covered half her face and left her short brown hair free, she was expressionless and impossible to decipher. The woman ignored Cat, staring straight ahead at the wall, her hands neatly folded atop the table. Cat bristled at the snub. She was meant to work with _this_ person?

The next set of strangers Cat heard without a problem. The pair were talking and laughing loudly in the hall making their approach obvious. Two teenage boys entered the room in the midst of a joke.

"-so I told him _freeze_ ," said one, chuckling as he did. He wore a white bodysuit with panels that bore clock faces. There was something oddly familiar about him.

His compatriot chuckled shaking his head. He cut an imposing figure, tall and solidly built. He wore a fancy velvet jacket over a shirt with frills like the sort a bullfighter from Spain would wear.

The two looked up from their conversation, smiles still on their faces, first at the silver woman, then at Cat.

"Hey!" The clock-wearing boy cried out. He pointed a finger Cat's way and she immediately tensed. "You're the one who jumped on top of me!"

Cat's eyes narrowed. She had never pounced on anyone outside of training no matter how much she wanted to. "No, I'm not," she countered.

Clock-face paused, taken aback by Cat's bold-faced denial. He lowered his finger. "Oh I guess you're right, I must have mistaken you for the _other_ catgirl who tackled me."

Sarcasm, Cat had learned about that, too. Clock boy didn't actually think he was mistaken, in fact it was the exact opposite.

"I don't know who you are," Cat stated.

Before he could retort, the silver-suited woman stood and spoke. "Then it's time we have introductions." She looked to the newcomers and gestured to the chair, "Gentlemen, if you'd sit."

The two 'gentlemen' looked at each other, but they sat down nonetheless.

"Thank you," the woman said, "As this is the first time we are working together, I believe it is best if we all introduce ourselves and then briefly describe our power so we know what we’re working with. I will start. I am Opal, I will be your team leader for this mission. My power is hard to explain, but in short it allows me to alter the physical properties of the space immediately surrounding my body."

"Sorry, what?" Clock-face asked.

"Allow me to demonstrate." Opal found a stray pen on the conference room table and held it up for everyone to see. A moment passed as everyone stared with no noticeable result. Cat was just about to say something when a bubble started to form and dark smoke rose off the pen. It was boiling. Plastic rolled off the pen, but Opal didn't so much as flinch as it coated her fingertips. Instead the plastic began to harden, solidifying as a white frost crackled over the pen until the whole thing was frozen solid.

"My power is slower to activate than most, but it allows me to change the temperature, friction or density of the space immediately near me." She put the frozen pen down and shook the plastic bits off her hand.

"Question," Clock-face said raising a hand, but didn't wait to be picked, "Were you actually _touching_ that pen?"

Opal gave the boy a meaningful stare. "No."

He sighed. "Got it."

"Good," Opal said, "Why don't you introduce yourself then."

"Alright," Clock-face said, "I'm Clockblocker. I can stop things in time with a touch." He reached over the table and picked up the half-melted-now-frozen pen. He held it out over the table and let go, but instead of falling, the pen simply hung in the air. "This pen will be stuck here for anywhere between thirty seconds and ten minutes. During that time, it can't be moved and it can't be harmed."

"Thank you Clockblocker," Opal said. She gestured to the boy sitting next to Clockblocker. "Would you please continue with the introductions?"

"Uh," the boy in the fancy suit nodded after a second of hesitation. "Sure, I guess. My name's Matador, I'm stronger and tougher than normal, but my real power is that I'm a one-way telekinetic. I 'pull' things toward me or if something's a lot heavier than me, I can pull myself toward it."

"Wait," Clockblocker cut in, "So you can fly? I've never seen you do that."

Matador shrugged. "It's not really flying. I don't really like doing it, it's not as cool as you think."

"Come on," Clockblocker said, "It can't be _that_ bad."

Matador frowned, but said nothing. It was then that the pen unfroze and it started to fall until it suddenly swerved up and to the right, straight into the waiting hand of Matador. He twirled it between his fingers, his frown now a smile. "I prefer making other things fly."

"Very good," Opal said, her tone suggesting the opposite opinion. She turned towards Cat. "And our final member, would you please introduce yourself."

Cat tried not to fidget too much with the shift in attention. It was something she didn't think she would ever get used to. "My name is Cat."

She paused, wondering how to explain her power when one of the boys - Clockblocker - snorted. She shot him a glare, wishing his head would explode, but he shook his head and folded his hands seriously in front of him.

"Please continue," Opal said as if nothing happened.

Cat scowled. "I can teleport."

They stared at her.

"What?" Cat asked.

It was Matador who spoke up, "Well, it's just that powers are usually a little more tricky than that. I mean if we're going to be working together it's better if we know the ins and outs, right?"

Cat's scowl worsened. "Fine." She stood up from her chair and started walking.

Cat had been working on her power quite a bit - Weld had insisted - she no longer needed a screaming need to run to use it, but she still didn't _like_ using her power. She had never explained why to Weld, Sveta or Ciara or anyone for that matter. As far as they knew, Cat could teleport as far and as fast as it would take her to actually run there. Cat never told them how in-between whenever she 'teleported' she would end up somewhere else entirely and always where other people were. The reactions of the strangers she barged in on was never good and Cat had a feeling that Weld would react the same if she ever told him.

So as Cat stepped forward, the light blossoming from her toe until it encompassed her all at once, she hoped no one would ask her what it was like when she teleported.

Cat emerged into a restroom, a row of men at urinals and a single boy at the faucet standing on the tips of his toes trying to wash his hands. The boy looked up into the mirror and froze as he saw Cat stroll past him.

Before the boy could shout anything, Cat focused on the motion of her body, on the act of _moving_ and slipped back into the light.

Cat re-emerged behind Clockblocker and Matador.

"There," she said.

They whirled around in their seats and Cat smirked at them.

"Neat," Clockblocker said, "A little slower than most teleportation I’ve seen, though."

Cat's mood soured. "I was only walking. I can teleport faster if I'm running."

Clockblocker nodded, but Cat got the feeling he wasn't impressed.

She reached past him and took the battered pen from Matador. In her other hand, claws slid out.

One swipe and the pen fell in five pieces.

"Ah," Clockblocker said.

Cat's smirk returned.

"Thank you for the demonstration, Cat," Opal said, "Please take a seat. Now that we’ve all introduced ourselves we can begin the briefing."

Cat looked up at the woman who was supposed to be their team leader. The woman seemed completely unphased by anyone's powers, her expression never changing. Cat wondered if the woman was actually just a robot. Her silver costume certainly suggested it. Nonetheless, Cat took her seat, ready to learn what her first ever mission would be.

* * *

The mission - if you could even call it that - was simple. Opal, Clockblocker, Matador and Cat were to escort a convoy of supplies and trade goods to a settlement in another dimension. No one expected any trouble, the settlement was one of the more well-secured ones, closer to the Warden’s home base than most. Rather the focus of the mission as Opal explained was on the ‘PR’ side of things. There was an uptick of cape attacks and a squadron of Warden capes would bolster the settlements’ confidence in their protectors and - Clockblocker muttered - make them more willing to accept an increase in taxes and tariffs.

Which meant that the Wardens were to be on their best behavior, no running off and breaking things (a stern look Cat’s way) and no mouthing off to the locals (a glare Clockblocker’s way). As the only adult, Opal did not seem happy being a glorified babysitter. But then Cat still hadn’t seen the woman express any emotion besides professional disdain so maybe that was just who she was.

Cat stretched, throwing her legs up atop the rattling dashboard of the truck. To her left was a grizzled man with thick stubble, the truck driver and to her right, was the clock-wearing teenager, Clockblocker. The team had split up into pairs, Opal and Matador watching the front of the convoy and Cat and Clockblocker assigned to the rear. An arrangement that Cat liked if only because it meant from being out from under the thumb of Opal. It would have been perfect if only Clockblocker wasn’t so insistent on conversation.

“So,” Clockblocker said, “You really don’t remember me?”

“Should I?” Cat replied, eyes forward though there wasn’t much to see other than the dust cloud the convoy was kicking up.

“Ouch. Well, what if I tell you about what happened? Maybe you’d remember then?”

Cat sighed, wishing their destination was closer. The convoy had already gone through the dimension door, but the settlers of Earth Lamet had gone deeper into the world where the land was better.

Clockblocker didn’t seem bothered in the least by Cat’s lack of response. “So it’s about five weeks ago and I’m making my big debut. Or my reintroduction to the world, reporters and photographers from every dimension that matters showing up to document the miracle return. I’m waving and shaking hands, getting my picture taken and then boom, next thing I know I’m face-first in the ground. I look up and other than a hundred cameras going off, capturing the moment, I see you.”

Cat remembered now, but she couldn’t just _admit_ that. “Miracle return?” Cat asked, hoping to change the subject.

Clockblocker gave a soft chuckle. “Oh you didn’t hear? The Wardens found the pocket dimension that Scion used to banish capes during Gold Morning. I’m the first one they were able to rescue.”

Cat’s eyes narrowed. There was something about the way Clockblocker had said that, he sounded far too cheery for someone who had been trapped in another dimension. But there was another thing that Cat picked up on.

“You fought Scion during Gold Morning?” Cat asked.

Something in her tone must have set off Clockblocker because he did a full rotation in his seat and stared at her. “Yeah. I did. Did you?”

“No,” Cat replied.

“Hm.” Clockblocker turned back in his seat, staring straight ahead.

“Was it really that bad?”

Again Clockblocker turned to look at her. “Yeah, it was.”

“Weld doesn’t like to talk about it,” Cat explained, “So I don’t know.”

Clockblocker stared at her for a long time. It was so hard to tell what he was thinking with that mask of his.

“You… you don’t know about Gold Morning? About Scion?”

Cat scowled. “I _do_. But like I said Weld doesn’t like to talk about it. No one does. They just get all grim and dour.”

“ _No shit_ ,” Clockblocker said and Cat was taken aback by the venom in his voice, “Of course they would. A lot of people died. I-” Clockblocker stopped, but then pressed on, “I saw a lot of my friends die that day. Same goes for Weld or anyone you’d ask who was there.”

Cat frowned, but said nothing. Billions dead, Weld had told her, but billions was a number that Cat only barely understood. She had never seen a billion of anything, much less of people. She remembered the dead man in the alleyway and tried to imagine a billion more of him. With that many corpses it would have filled the alley, flooded the entire city. Cat shivered at the image.

“You _really_ don’t know, do you.” Clockblocker said more than asked, suddenly softer.

“So what if I don’t,” Cat huffed.

“Then what do you remember?”

“What do you mean?”

“June 24th, 2013. Gold Morning. Do you remember it at all?”

“No,” Cat said. She had never paid any attention to dates before she stumbled on the Wardens. On the streets all Cat needed to know was whether it was day or night, weekday or weekend.

“Nothing? No big explosion or people out screaming in the streets?”

“No,” Cat said with a shake of her head, annoyed at this line of questioning. It reminded her of the early days of her stay with the Wardens when things seemed most uncertain. Her answer was the same as it had been then, in all her time out on the streets, Cat never saw any explosions or mass panics or a golden streak in the sky.

Clockblocker stared at her again for what felt like the hundredth time. Cat snarled at him, baring a fang his way. She had never even wanted this conversation to begin with. Him and his stupid questions making her feel weird.

He held up his hands apologetically. “Sorry, didn’t mean to press you. I was just a little surprised.”

Cat started to retort when the radio in the truck blared on with the cold hard voice of Opal.

“Attention all trucks, slow to a stop. There’s a road block up ahead that we’re going to have to clear. I repeat, all trucks, slow to a stop.”

The radio clicked and then started up again.

“Cat, Clockblocker. Get out and watch the perimeter while I and Matador clear the way. Stay on guard, this is a bad place for us to be stopped.”

The truck driver jerked at that bit of information and he turned a worried look Cat’s way.

“It’s probably nothing,” Clockblocker said leaning over, “The boss-lady likes to be careful, but these sorts of things happen all the time.”

The driver frowned, but didn’t complain.

As the two Wardens exited the truck, Clockblocker whispered to Cat, “Opal’s dense, but she’s right.” He looked up at their surroundings, rocky cliffs looming on either side. “This is a bad place to be.”

The trucks were lined single-file up a road just wide enough to accommodate them. The road itself was elevated so that on either side were ditches just before they turned up into the cliff walls. Cat gave the ditches a cursory glance, but no one was hiding in them, she couldn’t imagine anyone could without powers.

But if someone was attacking then they _would_ have powers wouldn’t they? Suddenly Cat felt very paranoid. What if there was someone invisible right behind her? Her tail whipped behind her in a way she could have played off as casual, but it struck nothing.

“Hey,” Clockblocker called to her from atop one of the trucks. “Come up here, easier to see whole convoy.”

A sensible idea. Clockblocker offered her a hand, but Cat ignored it, bounding first onto the hood of the truck, then the roof.

“Show off,” Clockblocker muttered, but then he turned and pointed at the peak of the cliffside. “Can you teleport up there? Scout it out?”

Cat frowned. “I don’t think so.” It would only work if the place she stepped into had a staircase right there, but at the same time, it was an awful long distance to go upwards. Farther than she had ever gone in one teleport. Even if she tried, she’d likely wind up with nothing beneath her.

“Thought as much,” Clockblocker sighed, “Guess having a flier on the mission was too much to ask for.”

Cat hummed her agreement and turned her gaze to the front of the convoy to see what was holding them up. It was a massive rock-slide that had landed in the middle of the road, blocking them. And if Cat squinted her eyes, she could make out the vague forms of Opal and Matador working to clear the rubble away. Matador punching and pulling at the rocks. Then Opal following Matador’s path, running her hands along the sides, leaving behind a glossy sheen to the stone that prevented the rockslide from shifting catastrophically. Their progress was slow, their powers ill-suited to the task. Cat guessed that it would take them hours.

She turned her gaze back down to the trucks and saw that a few of the drivers had hopped out to see what was going on. Cat wished they would go back in, their movement, murmuring and worried expressions only distracted her when she needed to pay attention. One driver was heading for Cat, waving his hand and she did her best to ignore him. No doubt he wanted to ask her questions she couldn’t answer.

Cat’s ears pricked up.

“Hey!” The truck driver shouted.

Cat hissed at him. “Quiet!” She held up a finger, her ears standing on point to listen.

The trucks had all been turned down, no point in running the engine while there was no where to go, but there was still too much noise from the drivers. The crunch of gravel, muttering and nervous laughter. Cat wished they would all just shut up.

“Hey how long you-”

“I said quiet!” Cat hissed at the man again.

The man fumed, but Cat didn’t care. She heard something. A rush of wind, which was not odd considering that they were in a valley. But there was something else to that noise. Cat closed her eyes and focused.

An awful screech rang out, echoing off the cliff walls until the wailing surrounded them. Except it wasn’t just an echo, more screeches joined the first until the valley reverberated with a terrible cacophony. Cat winced, clutching her ears.

Clockblocker shouted something, but she couldn’t make out his words.

He pointed up and Cat looked.

Six dark shapes flitted overhead, diving from above the clifftops. At first Cat thought they were bombs or missiles but as they drew nearer, Cat saw they had wings. Like birds except that they were much too big. Human-sized with a long torso, but otherwise covered in black feathers with beaks and talons and wings for arms. Their eyes were the most human part about them, wide-eyed and blood-shot, they reminded Cat of the man in the alleyway.

The birdmen screeched again and dove to attack.


	6. Cat - Six

Talons swiped past Cat as she dove off the truck. She landed on her feet and ducked just in time to avoid another pair of talons trying to take off her scalp. The birdman hounding her rose up, coming around for another pass and Cat had a brief moment to assess the situation.

The screeching had lessened, the birdmen's focus now on attack. Clockblocker was still atop the truck, ducking and weaving a pair of the aerial enemies.

The rest were honed in on Cat. Two birdmen swooped down, one coming from her left, the other from her right. A pincer attempt, while the remaining two circled above.

Cat started to run, but it was easy for the birdmen to adjust their flight. If anything, her retreat galvanized them, their wings narrowing as they picked up speed, divebombing her.

At the last moment, Cat threw herself to the ground, but it wasn't enough, she howled as her back flared with pain. Matching her voice were a pair of screeches. Cat looked up and saw the birdmen circling above were done waiting their turn. They dove down like missles.

No time to get up or scramble away, Cat pushed herself into the light.

An explosive boom marked her arrival, dirt and debris raining down on her. It was lucky she had been laying down because just next to Cat was a smoking crater where the scorched remains of a human body fell to pieces.

Cat had only a moment to stare before another explosion went off and something wet and heavy struck her leg. She screamed a human high-pitched scream.

What was going on? What hellscape had she stumbled into?

The earth shook underneath her, slapping her jaw shut, as some poor sap that she couldn't even see was torn to pieces. The air was thick with smoke and the smell of death, her eyes watered just trying to figure out where she was. She was too scared to move, could barely even breathe. Why! Why did Cat have to have the worst power in the world!

There was a crunch of gravel and the clang of metal on metal. Cat looked up and saw an iron boot just in front of her face. She followed the massive boot up along the black armored body of a man wearing a gas mask and hoisting a massive gatling gun at his hip.

Her gasp gave her away. The armored man looked down at her, the eyes of his mask flashing red.

The world flashed white and the explosions ended. Cat didn't even have a second of relief though because the sound that replaced the explosion was an inhuman screech.

Cat groaned. She was back with the birdmen.

But she had a moment's respite, the birdmen hadn't notice her just yet. The avians were occupied with fighting off Clockblocker who had actually managed to get his hands on a few. Two hung frozen in the air around him. He was still atop the truck and the birdmen were giving him a wide berth now, afraid of going near him.

Clockblocker didn't waste the time they gave him, he raised a hand, aimed and fired a dart attached to his finger by a fish-line wire. The birdmen scattered, but Clockblocker's target wasn't fast enough to dodge the unexpected attack. The dart struck the avian and it froze in the sky.

The remaining birdmen screeched their displeasure and began to whirl in the air, flying at full speed as they circled Clockblocker. They moved too fast for Clockblocker to keep them all in his line of sight and he spun in step, trying to cover his own back.

"Hey!" A voice yelled over the screeching, still hard to hear. Cat reluctantly looked over and saw a truck driver hiding underneath his vehicle.

The man shouted again, but she couldn't make out his words. He pointed at Clockblocker, still shouting, but it was all nonsense to Cat. Nonetheless, she looked.

One of the frozen birdmen had come unstopped and it fell to the ground. Clockblocker didn't notice, couldn't hear over the screeching and couldn't see with the other three birdmen darting in and out around him, feinting attacks, but pulling away at the last second. The unfrozen birdman struggled to its feet before turning to look up at Clockblocker, murder in its eyes.

Clockblocker was going to die.

A cold feeling cloaked Cat. Why was he fighting? If he had just run off, put his back to the cliffwall or ducked below a truck, there was no way the birdmen could get to him without getting tagged. Why was he so intent on getting himself killed?

Cat turned and yelled at her teammate, "Below you!"

But there was no hearing her amidst the constant racket the birdmen made. The only ones who heard her were the birdmen themselves.

One of the trio running distractions peeled off and made for her while the unfrozen birdman on the ground started to clamber up the truck, sneaking its way to an unaware Clockblocker.

"Clockblocker!" Cat cried again, but there was no hope of him hearing her. Cat grit her teeth and ran. Not away, but towards the danger. Every instinct in her mind told her this was wrong, that she was risking her life for someone she barely knew, someone she didn't even really like.

She should escape. Being a Warden had been fine, fun even, but why risk her life? Why was she doing this?

A question intruded on her thoughts. A simple one, but one Cat couldn't shake. What would Weld do?

Cat pushed herself harder, picking up speed as she ran for Clockblocker. The birdman diving for her shrieked like a bullet whizzing through the air. Its talons rose, looking to take a chunk out of her chest.

Cat leapt into them, but they never made contact. She was back on the battlefield where she could taste the smoke in the air, hear the rumble of explosions couple with the howls of people and where the armored man was. He turned to look at her. Cat pushed back and returned to the convoy, the birdman swinging past her, confused at the disappearance of its target.

In front of her, Clockblocker was aiming his gauntlet, so focused on landing his shot he didn't notice the birdman right behind him.

Cat leapt up and immediately knew she was short. Clockblocker was on top of the truck and as good as Cat was, she just couldn't jump that high in a single bound. She needed another step.

Cat didn't even notice her shift this time. She was mid-leap when she reappeared on the smoky battlefield. There was no time to take in the sights, the man in black armor stood in front of her, the turret at his hip beginning to spin. He turned to aim at Cat just as her feet found his face and she pushed off.

She flickered and then she was in the valley again, at the birdman's back. The avian was poised to stab Clockblocker when Cat crashed into it, her feet found purchase in the thing's back while her hands worked furiously, swiping left, right, up and down, each time gouging out chunks of flesh and feathers.

By the time they hit the ground, the birdman was no longer moving.

Cat looked down at the bloody mess beneath her, panting.

“Holy shit!” A voice shouted from above. Clockblocker. He sounded shocked and then muted as he muttered, “Remind me not to piss you off.”

Cat would do just that. In the meantime, she pointed behind Clockblocker and shouted “Behind you!”

The birdmen’s wailing was no longer so loud and Clockblocker turned to see one swooping to claw him while he was distracted. Clockblocker raised a hand just in time to catch the avian by its beak, stopping it flat. The birdman hovered in the air like a macabre stuffed statue.

Another was aiming for Cat's back, flying so low to the ground it almost looked like it was running. This one was also trying to be quiet, but Cat’s ears were better than that. She feigned ignorance, baiting the birdman closer until the very last moment when Cat leapt straight up her claws hanging below her. The birdmen had fast reflexes and this one swerved to evade, but it was too late. Cat gouged four long lines through the birdman’s wing. The thing cried out and crashed beak-first into the ground before spiraling into a vicious tumble that shattered bones.

The crumpled heap of feathers, twitched once, twice and then not at all. Cat gave a small smile of satisfaction and she looked up. Where were the others? Her eyes scanned the skies, hunting for the two remaining birdmen and found them high above. Cat growled with annoyance. If the birdmen were biding their time, there really wasn't much she could do. After all, she hadn't seen any elevators on the smoky battlefield.

Cat glanced at Clockblocker, but he seemed just as helpless. He alternated between managing his frozen targets and keeping an eye on the two remaining above.

A whistle pierced Cat’s thoughts, high-pitched and sharp, it shook Cat like a splash of water to the face. She blinked trying to find the source, but the birdmen seemed to know already because they took off, making a beeline for the front of the convoy.

Clockblocker shouted something, but Cat wasn’t paying attention. Her focus was on that whistle. She ran, going down on all fours, struggling to catch up with the much faster birdmen. Trucks and the beleaguered men who drove them blurred past her as she raced as fast as her legs could carry her. She had to know what was making that whistling sound.

Cat pulled ahead of the lead truck and saw the scattered remains of a battle. Black scars on the ground, impact craters, the smell of burning fur and the smashed remains of…

“Cat!” Opal yelled from behind the cover of a boulder, the right half of her costume was burnt black. “Take cover!”

A moment’s hesitation, a moment of confusion, that was all it took. A fireball smashed into Cat’s chest lifting her off her feet and knocking her flat on her back. Cat wheezed, but she didn’t have the time to get her breath back, her chest spiked with pain. Her fur had caught fire and though the flame was little, the pain was immense like she was being pressed into a grill.

Suddenly Cat was sliding against the ground, her ass bumped hard against a rock, and though it would bruise that seemed so much less important than the feeling of being cooked alive. Cat slid into a circle of boulders arranged in a waist-high fort. Her head bumped into something soft - softer than a rock at least. And then dirt was piled atop her chest, putting the flames out. The relief was immediate, the dirt might as well have been ice. The face of Matador entered her vision. The big brute with a frilly dress shirt. She had never told him how ridiculous he looked. She opened her mouth, but only coughed. Her lungs still felt like a lead weight had landed on them.

“Don’t move!” Matador shouted into her face. Entirely too loud. It wasn’t like Cat could move. “Stay down, I’m getting Opal!”

He didn’t wait for her reply, not that she could have given one. He leapt over his little fort wall and ran off, leaving Cat all alone. She stared up at the sky. It was blue. Even if this was another dimension, the sky was still blue. Somehow that felt right.

There was a fat _whump_ and the earth shook. A boulder tossed. And then the crackle of fire.

The smell of burning fur. The bodies. Like a cat, but not. Like a human, but not. They were like Cat.

They were like Cat.

Cat sucked in a breath, but choked. The wind refused to go down. She tried again and this time, a little came in. Good enough. Cat raised a trembling hand up. She gripped the edge of the stone wall and pulled. Her body lifted off the ground, slow and shaking, but Cat was strong. She was strong and she would get up. Cat rose to a sitting position, still not high enough to see over the boulders even with how short they were. She pushed herself the extra few inches, leaning hard against the stone until she could see again.

More scorch-marks, more craters in the ground. Opal and Matador had holed themselves up in another hastily formed rock-fort.

Surrounding them, zipping in and out of view, were three cat-people. One grey tabby, one spotted black and white and the last was orange with stripes of white and a trail of flames.

Flames poured out from every bounding step and though the fire didn’t last long on the hard dirt and rock, where it did catch fire it lingered. The flaming cat leaped over one of its fallen comrades and the corpse of the cat-person immediately caught fire.

One of the cats, the grey tabby, was slower than the rest. Matador fixed his gaze on it and it stumbled suddenly, losing its footing as it started to slide towards Matador. The tabby threw out its claws and dug into the dirt, fighting against the cape’s telekinesis, but the force was unyielding, slowly, but surely, the grey tabby was being dragged to Matador.

The other cats dashed to attack. The flaming cat swung to the side and while still running, hurled a fireball at Matador’s face. Opal stepped in between the attack, putting a hand up that doused the fireball on contact in a gush of steam. From the other side the spotted cat pounced, but Opal was there, too. She punched the cat square in its chest and it went flying, making a wet smack as it smashed into the cliff wall twenty feet away.

The flaming cat threw another fireball and with its other hand set on its lips, whistled.

The whistle was louder the second time around. But it wasn’t the same tone as before. It was different somehow. Cat felt her heartrate pick up, forcing blood into her veins even though her body could hardly move. The adrenaline heightened her senses, made the colors pop out and the birdmen clear to see.

The remaining two birdmen were diving down like a pair of bombers with a deathwish. Completely silent, totally perpendicular to the ground, any thought of pulling up impossible, they aimed for Opal and Matador.

Cat opened her mouth, tried to scream a warning, but her voice was only a ragged whisper, impossible to hear over the chaos. Cat tried to move, to lift her legs and hop her little stone-fort, but those boulders might as well have been mountains, her body refused to cooperate and her power was no use here. All Cat could do was watch.

The birdmen didn’t bother with the talons, they went with their beaks, as sharp as any dagger, they plunged downward.

And exploded in a puff of feathers and blood.

Cat blinked, the birdmen had all but vaporized on impact. Opal and Matador still faced their cat-like enemies, unaware that anything had even happened. In fact, they hadn’t even moved.

And then Cat spotted it. A pair of fishing lines. They wavered with the wind and caught the light, allowing Cat to follow them with her eyes. A considerable distance away, Clockblocker stood atop the lead truck, breathing hard, his gloved hand held out.

Opal and Matador under the effects of Clockblocker were invulnerable, but Cat never realized just _how_ invulnerable. There was nothing left of the two birdmen except for a few feathers.

The other cats were also caught in astonishment. They stared unsure what to make of the two suddenly frozen heroes.

The flaming cat moved first, launching a flurry of fireballs at the pair to absolutely no effect. Each fireball disintegrated as they struck the time-stuck heroes and when the flames fell away with not even a singe to Opal’s hair, the flaming cat glowered silently. The spotted one took a step back while the grey tabby limped to regroup with its brethren. They were afraid, Cat recognized the signs: the raised hair and the arched tail. It was exactly how Cat would have reacted.

Slowly as if not to wake the invulnerable statues, the flaming cat put its fingers to its lips and whistled again. It was the same pitch as the first one. This time only a single birdman flew towards the trio of cats, but they didn’t wait for it. Instead they took off, running over the top of the rockslide, away from the convoy. They were retreating.

As they left, the flaming cat extinguished itself, no longer leaving behind such an obvious trail. No longer on fire, it seemed so much more mundane. As if a cat-human hybrid were just an everyday sight. The only thing to distinguish it from its fellows was the vibrancy of its fur. Orange with white stripes. Beautiful colors. Cat’s colors. As it hopped a rock, it looked over its shoulder and met Cat’s gaze.

The stare stretched on, neither one willing to blink.

And then the fire-cat turned and jumped down, disappearing behind the rockslide.

Cat kept staring, though. Her eyes fixed on the spot where the fire-cat had been. The image of... of _her_ stuck in Cat's mind. Her. A female feline. Cat should've noticed instantly, but then she had never seen another cat-person before, had she?

Pockets of flame lingered on the ground, crackling as they ate up what they could. Cat didn't remember anything before the streets. Had said so a hundred times to everyone who asked.

So why couldn't she shake the feeling she knew that orange cat?

* * *

##### END ARC 1 - CAT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for Arc 1 - Cat. There won't really be an "interlude" chapter as we know them since I just insert POVs as necessary. That said, I'm glad I got through this arc since it was mostly introductions to the character and laying the groundwork.
> 
> With that out of the way, now we can get to the meat. Look forward to Arc 2 - Name Pending.


	7. Curiosity - One

Cat supposed the mission was a failure. Even though they beat the enemy and no one on their side died, none of the trucks made it to the settlement. Instead they went straight back through the dimension door, back to the Wardens.

As team leader, Opal had the authority to scrap their mission on a whim and she had done just that. Normally Cat would have been more bothered by her first mission going so wrong (and having to deal with Weld's "told-you-so" look), but her mind was elsewhere.

The other cat. The one who looked so much like her. Cat remembered the stare the two shared, the recognition.

"Hey."

Cat looked up and saw Matador. He wasn't wearing his mask, but the bandages did a good job covering up the details. He hadn't been hurt that bad - being a Brute had its advantages - but the doctors weren't taken any chances, every nick and burn had been treated twice over.

He was finally out of the emergency room along with Cat, stuck in the waiting room until "things were sorted out."

"How are you doing?" Matador asked.

"Mmm," mumbled Cat.

"And your back?"

"Fine," Cat said. The birdmen hadn't clawed her deep.

"How bad were your burns?"

"Fine," Cat said again. They weren't as bad as Opal's.

Matador paused and Cat knew what he wanted to asked next.

"Do you know who..." Matador licked his lips, "those people were?"

"No," Cat said. "I don't remember anything."

It was the truth and Matador nodded, not saying anything more. No pressure, no game of twenty questions, just a quiet acceptance of what she said. She didn’t realize how much she needed that.

"You wanna go see Clockblocker?" Matador asked without a segue, "I think he should be ready by now."

Cat chewed on her lip before deciding, "Yeah. Let's go."

The hospital was busy - as an extension of the Wardens HQ not only did it have to manage all of their own capes and staff, but they had an obligation as the "good guys" to help everyone else. There were still too many places without much in the way of modern medicine and it was no surprise to find transplanar pilgrims come here to save a loved one from a simple fever.

Harried doctors and nurses, whole families in shambles, and people on the worst days of their lives went to and fro through the halls. It wasn’t crowded, but it was active. If people needed to go somewhere, then they went there fast. And this was a light day.

Cat and Matador navigated through the drama, mindful not to disturb anyone until they came to Clockblocker’s room. However blocking the door were a pair of Warden agents. One had black hair cropped short and a scar riding his chin, the other had sandy-hair and a boyish-face despite his muscular build. Cat eyed the pistols holstered at their waists.

Matador stepped forward first. “We’re here to see Clockblocker. We’re his teammates.”

“Sorry guys,” the sandy-haired man said, giving them an apologetic shrug, “We can’t let you in right now. Orders.”

Matador glanced at Cat, worry on his face, before he turned back to the agent. “What? Why not? The doctor in the ER told me he was fine.”

“You’re asking the wrong guy,” the sandy-haired man said, “I only know what I was told.”

What was this nonsense? Why did humans have to complicate something as a simple as seeing a teammate? Cat sneered, baring a fang. “And what were you told?”

“Hey, come on.” The sandy-haired man flinched, not a big jump, but enough that Cat noticed. He held his hands out, an uneasy smile on his face. “We’re just following orders.”

“Cat.” Matador put his hand on Cat’s shoulder. “Take it easy.”

Grudgingly, Cat closed her mouth.

The sandy-haired man relaxed, but the black-haired one with the scar didn’t. The scarred man had a hard look in his eyes and when Cat had stepped forth, his hand had drifted to gun. He had been silent the whole time, but he was primed for a fight, his lips drawn in a tight line. Cat would have to keep an eye on him.

“Look,” Matador spoke, trying to remain calm, “If you won’t let us in, can you at least tell us who told you guard this door? Then we can ask them if it’s alright for us to see our _friend_.”

The sandy-haired man frowned. “I wish I could. But I can’t. Please, understand.”

Matador grit his teeth. “How can I understand if you won’t even tell us _anything_? You can’t-”

The door opened and for a moment, Cat thought it had unlocked by itself. But then she looked down and saw a diminutive girl standing at the crack of the door. She had blonde hair and a cutesy face that would’ve been perfect for commercials if it weren’t the lines of weariness dragging her down.

“Can you guys keep it down?” The blonde girl asked irritably. Her hair was messy like she had just woken up.

Matador squinted. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

The sandy-haired agent stepped in between the two while his partner bent over to whisper at the blonde girl. “Alright, I’m going to have to insist you guys leave. You’ve already seen too much and -”

“Hey!” The blonde girl shouted. “They want to see their friend? Well, I’m done, so they can.”

The man frowned, looking between the two, unsure as to what to do.

With a sigh, the blonde girl stepped out of the room. “Legend told you guys to keep an eye on me, right? Well, I’m going to get lunch.”

Before either man could protest further, the girl walked off. The sandy-haired agent gave one more strained look at Cat and Matador before he and his partner rushed to follow the blonde girl. Cat watched them leave with narrowed eyes. Apparently watching the girl was the more important order to follow.

“Assholes,” Matador muttered. He turned to the door and after a moment’s hesitation, went in.

There weren’t any private rooms in the hospital or at least none that were designed so - it was hard to dedicate that much space to privacy in a place so busy, no matter the price someone could pay. So Clockblocker’s room looked that much odder for how empty it was. His was the only bed in the room that could house six. Even stranger was the fact that Clockblocker lay in bed in full costume, mask and everything.

“Oh,” Clockblocker said, sitting up, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself!” Matador marched inside with a grin, past worries and annoyances set aside. “What is this a brand new costume? They got you fixed up quick!”

Clockblocker chuckled and turned so that he sat on the edge of the bed, “I’m their new poster boy, I’ve gotta look _presentable_.” He glanced at Matador who looked half-a-mummy. “Which is more than I can say for you. You barely got scratched. What is with that get-up?”

Matador shrugged, but there was a little red in his cheeks. “Downsides of the power. Doctors couldn’t use stitches without breaking their needles, but it wasn’t so serious that I’d bleed out, so they just bundled me up.”

“Or maybe the baby needed extra special care,” Clockblocker taunted

Matador grinned. “I’m like twice your size.”

“A _big_ baby.”

The two shared a laugh, clearly happy to see one another and began to trade verbal jabs, all in good fun.

Cat wasn’t sure why she even bothered to come. The two were friends, they had worked together before, but who was Cat to them? Just someone they met that day. Someone who looked just like the beasts that attacked them. She didn’t belong here. She had only come because there had been nothing better to do, that was all.

Cat glanced at Clockblocker who was rubbing his shoulder after Matador gave him a “playful” punch. She had risked her life to save him, Weld would be happy with that. And if she got sashimi or salted fish for her troubles, maybe it’d actually be worth it. Was that why she had done it? She could’ve run away, her power was perfectly suited to it (although that smoky place she had ended up had been awful). Had she only been gunning for the reward Weld would offer her?

Clockblocker took a fistful of Matador’s bandages and was giving it a good tug, but they were wrapped too tight to come undone. Cat hated this. Being a third wheel. Being confused. Being in this limbo state where everything was uncertain. Why couldn’t she remember anything before the streets?

“Cat. Cat. Cat!”

She looked up. Clockblocker was staring at her.

“Did you hear me?”

Cat shook her head.

“I said ‘thanks for saving my life’,” Clockblocker said, sounding more annoyed than grateful.

"Oh. You're welcome."

Clockblocker gave her an odd look. "Yeah, no big deal. Just my life. Thanks for thinking of it when you did."

Sarcasm. Cat's eyes narrowed, she disliked sarcasm.

"Er. Sorry." Clockblocker amended, noticing her hostility. “I mean it though, thanks.”

"Don't mind, Clockblocker," Matador added, "He's an idiot."

Clockblocker gasped, mock offended and Cat relaxed, turning her gaze away. She was being stupid. Touchy. It was the frustration. Questions pressed against her thoughts, drowning out all others, questions that she _should_ know the answer to, but... didn't.

"Sorry," Cat mumbled, "I'm glad you're okay." She didn't wait for a reply. She turned and left the room, ignoring Clockblocker’s shouted apologies. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she needed to move.

Who was the other cat? How did Cat know her? And more insidiously, the questions gnawing at her insides like parasite: Where had Cat come from? Why didn't she remember anything before the streets?

Who was Cat?

The existential crisis disturbed Cat. It was never a thought that had bothered her before. Before she had met her counterpart, or come to the Wardens or met Ciara or Weld, none of those questions had mattered. Cat had only ever thought of her own survival and little else.

When had things gotten so complicated?

Another question to add to the list. Cat shook her head, she needed to get out of here.

Cat was so lost in her thoughts she didn't notice Chevalier until she nearly bumped into him.

"Hey." The gold-armored leader of the Wardens caught her before they collided. "You alright, Cat?"

"Fine," she said quickly, "I'm fine."

Chevalier studied her for a moment and Cat's eyes flicked to the side. Chevalier hadn't come alone, with him were two Wardens. Parahumans judging by their costumes, one in a blue suit with silver latticework, the other in red and black power armor with a grill for a mask that made him look like an old steam train.

"I heard your team got ambushed," Chevalier said, his voice level.

"Yeah," Cat said.

"How is everyone doing?"

Cat hesitated. "Opal's still in the ER. She was burned bad."

Chevalier's lips pressed together. "Opal's tough. She'll be alright."

Cat didn't doubt this. After all the woman had made it to the hospital, enduring the hours of driving to get back. "Everyone else is fine," Cat added, "A few scrapes and light burns, but fine."

Chevalier nodded. "That's good."

He didn't say anything more and they were left silently standing across from one another.

"Listen, Cat," Chevalier spoke up, "This isn’t how your first mission should have been. I'm sorry. I threw you into the deep-end without even realizing."

Cat opened her mouth to say something, but stopped. It wasn't really Chevalier's fault, there was no way he could've known beforehand, but that didn't matter to Cat. Cat didn’t blame him, but if was going to take the burden, then good. Maybe that would make him more vigilant.

Chevalier took her silence with a grim nod. "We have Thinkers working to figure out who attacked you and why." His eyes took a hard glint, like cold stone. "I promise you, Cat, we'll find out who did this."

Cat stared at him.

His eyes met her's and they took a softer edge. "If there's anything you can tell us, anything at all."

He didn't say anything more and the pause went on long enough that Cat realized he was expecting her to respond.

"I don't know anything," Cat blurted out.

Chevalier raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know who those other cats were. Or those crows. Or about the ambush. Or anything before the streets or-"

Chevalier held a hand up. "I believe you. The amnesia, right?"

Cat nodded.

He sighed. "Don't worry about it. But if something comes up, if you remember anything. Please let me know."

For an instant, Cat thought of telling Chevalier about the recognition she had felt seeing the other cat, but what good would that do? There was no information to be gleaned from a vague feeling, it would only make her seem more suspicious. It wasn't as if Cat was lying, maybe she didn’t know that other cat. She couldn’t say for certain either way.

So with a weak smile, the only word Cat could say was, "Okay."

* * *

When Chevalier was younger, his power and pain still raw, he had hunted down the criminals who stole his brother from him. The newspapers had called his crusade brutal, ruthless and relentless. Relentless, that had been the word they had used over and over until it nearly became his moniker.

Of course Alexandria had gotten to him before he could finish the job, but he had never forgotten that _drive_. When Chevalier set his mind to something, he did it. The real difference from then and now was that Chevalier was smarter now.

Chevalier let Cat leave, offering her a smile and a nod, but his eyes were sharp. He watched her shadow winking in and out of existence, still fainter than anyone else's, but not nearly so faint as when they first met. It was a silhouette of Cat that followed her movement, but it wasn't composed of shadow or light, but rather constantly flickering images. Grass fields, office spaces, ocean horizons and so on. The images were clearer than the first time he had seen her, clear enough that he was confident he could guess what her power really was.

Cat didn't just vanish when she used her power, she side-stepped between realities. Jumping in and out when it suited her.

Troublesome. And a diplomatic disaster waiting to happen.

But it could be worth the risk if it meant figuring out her mystery.

Chevalier had already talked to several of the drivers in the convoy and his suspicion that Cat was no Case 53 was all but confirmed. No Case 53 ever came out the same and to see a pack of them all bearing the same crow-like or cat-like traits? He would have figured them for Mastered puppets, but then one of them had showcased parahuman capabilities, flinging fire at his Wardens.

That changed everything. If these beastmen could trigger then that could mean any number of things. Maybe they still were creatures created by a Master who had become capable of triggering. Or they could be a new alien species from a reality completely unlike their own. Or maybe they were animals who had triggered as a side-effect of how unstable the shards had become. Or, or, or... The possibilities were endless.

The important thing to understand was that they were _coordinated_ and they were _hostile_. Their ambush had failed, but it had been executed well and they had retreated when there was no hope of victory. These were not savage beasts. This was an enemy completely unknown to the Wardens.

And right now his only clue was Cat.

Chevalier turned and walked in the opposite direction. He wasn't a kid anymore. A full-frontal assault wouldn't solve anything here. He needed to be careful.

But Chevalier was relentless. The Wardens would keep an eye on Cat, they would watch her every move, listen to her every word and figure out where she came from.

And if she betrayed them, Chevalier would handle her himself.

* * *

Some leaders led from the confines of a room far in the rear, their only connection to the outside world, the words of the subordinates. Others led from the front charging ahead of all the rest, (hopefully) inspiring their soldiers to follow. Both approaches had their virtues and their downsides, but Teacher as he did for most things, preferred the middle ground.

Teacher was active in his command room, going from console to console, checking in with each of his students personally. He stood over the shoulder of a middle-aged blonde woman, listening patiently as she explained the coming weather patterns, but his attention was on her. Linda , 48 years old, a former nurse who had come to him after a messy divorce looking for a way to keep her children. That had been before the whole vice-president fiasco, before Gold Morning. When he did get out of the Birdcage, she had come crawling back - literally on hands and knees, asking for his help again.

And Teacher helped her. He wasn’t a monster. He never forgot a student. A particularity of his power, but he’d like to think that even without it, he would have made the effort.

“-and the storm will be making landfall at approximately 0600 hours. I would recommend-”

Teacher held his hand up and the motion alone was enough to silence the woman. “That will be all, Linda. Thank you.” He clapped her on the back and wordlessly she turned back to the console. She wouldn’t need any lessons from him anytime soon.

Teacher surveyed the rest of his students. His _classroom_ \- though the command room looked completely unlike one. Teacher was almost out of place amongst the technical gadgetry. He was a rotund man, wearing plain slacks, a shirt and a sweater vest. Most parahumans liked to dress up, but not Teacher, he simply wore what he was most comfortable with, what he had worn his whole life. Modest as he was, he swelled with pride at the sight of each student, diligent, focused and productive. Here was where progress was made, here was the new Cauldron.

“Garfield,” Teacher said.

“Yes, sir?” A man answered, his head lifting away from the screen in front of him.

“What is the status of our second batch?”

“Currently, batches 2A to 2F are at stage 4 with a failure rate of 43%. Batches 2H to 2M are at stage 3 with a failure rate of 28%. And as you know, sir, Batch 2G wiped out two weeks ago.”

Teacher nodded, not minding the redundant information. It was good to refresh things in his mind. He couldn’t help, but smile. The failure rate was going down, slowly but surely it was going down.

“That’ll be all, Garfield.” Teacher said, dismissing the man.

He walked away from the command room and tapped a button in the sleeve of his shirt.

“Satyr,” Teacher said aloud, though no one was near him, “If you would please meet me at Barracks D in thirty minutes.”

The answer went directly to his ear. “Sure thing,” Satyr drawled.

"Thank you, I'll see you there."

Teacher closed the line and silenced it as he walked briskly down the hallway. Thirty minutes was more than enough time for Teacher to get their meeting point which is why he took the scenic route and why he had silenced his communicator. He wanted to appreciate this. He came to the Incubation Chamber where the second batch stewed.

It was a large room housing rows and rows of glass tubes large enough to house a person inside. Although to call it a person... well Teacher couldn't be sure that was accurate, that was a philosophical debate he had no interest in. He stopped in front of one tube and studied the inhabitant.

She floated, suspended in nutrient gel, stark naked. Though there was not much to see, no curves to speak of and her skin had not fully formed exposing the raw muscle underneath. Still there was a beauty to be appreciated there. An elegance like a ballerina. Teacher smiled like a father appreciating his daughter.

"Skitter," Teacher said softly.

The clone in the vat didn't respond, though its eyelids twitched. Just a coincidence, Teacher knew. It couldn't hear him and it only dreamed what Teacher wanted it to dream.

He checked the number on the vat. 2K-09. He hoped this one wouldn't fail like the others.

Teacher stepped away from the tube. No point in getting sentimental, not when he already had too many responsibilities. The vats contained a number of slumbering men and women. Many duplicates, mirror images of each other, but with still enough variety that they wouldn't be a one-dimensional army.

They were all powerful capes in their own right, but _manageable_. Teacher wasn't quite willing to take the leap with cloning Alexandria or Eidolon, that could pose more problems than it solved. Besides the Simurgh was trying to clone Eidolon and Teacher wasn't sure if he wanted to encroach on that. Who knew how the Endbringer would react?

Footsteps disturbed his thoughts, he looked up to see Satyr making his way towards him. The former Vegas cape had never abandoned his sense of flair, his costume little better than a chippendale's outfit with the only major deviations the lack of tie and the grinning goat mask that did nothing to hide the grin of his own.

"Hey, bossman," Satyr said.

"Satyr," Teacher acknowledged him, "Come to find me? I wasn’t late, was I?"

"No, but I thought you’d like to discuss the news"

Teacher looked at Satyr. "The news?"

His grin grew wider. "Is your communicator off?"

Teacher scowled, not appreciating the dodgy answer. He unsilenced his communicator and found that the student monitoring Warden activity had tried to contact him.

Teacher opened the line. "Bernice. What did you need to tell me?"

His student displayed no discomfort at his rough tone. Did not rush, did not panic. She only calmly relayed the information she had received from their spies in the Wardens.

Her calm helped him. A steadying presence through troubling news. It allowed him the clarity of mind to assess the emergence of these... "chimeras" - as the Warden Thinkers were calling them. It pained him to admit he had no idea where they had come from, but that didn't mean he couldn't use this turn of events to his advantage. Teacher would have to accelerate his plans. He smiled, looking back up at 2K-09, he could use this.


	8. Curiosity - Two

The shop lies on the outskirts of the city in between concrete structures and long tracts of farmland. Rurality and the urbane mingle here, farmers and factory workers, these are people who actually _work_ to survive.

But these people aren't miserable. They know better. They have it _good_. Too many have seen what life is like outside the city's protection. Whatever land the Golden Fool failed to devastate has been claimed by warlords. Brutal parahuman rulers whose word is law whether you like it or not. So the people don't have the luxuries of the old world, but at least here on the outskirts of the city, they have the Wardens.

And closer at hand, they have Jan & Bertha's shop.

It is a squat utilitarian concrete building, almost like a bunker. It would have been a dour sight if it weren’t for the line of people stretched out the door, all eagerly waiting their turn. City-dwellers and dimension-hoppers making the journey just for the area's local specialty.

_Jan & Bertha's End-of-the-World Ice Cream_

The first operational ice cream shop in this reality. In the wake of Gold Morning, after weeks of grueling back-breaking work just to sustain themselves, Jan and Bertha decided what they needed more than anything else was _ice cream_. Even when running water and electricity were still scarce, Jan and Bertha made do and their End-of-the-World ice cream was an explosive success. Everyone missed ice cream.

Since their establishment, other ice cream shops have sprung up closer to the center of the city, but what die-hard fans of J&B will tell you is that nothing compares to the taste of End-of-the-World ice cream. They were the first and still the best.

A pair of girlfriends chatter eagerly as they come to the door. A few more minutes and they'll be inside. They've been on line since the crack of dawn and now it's already noon. They're not tourists. Their cheeks are smudged with dirt and their clothes are rough and worn, it's clear they're locals, but only one of them has had any End-of-the-World ice cream before. She insists to her friend, that it'll be the worth the wait.

A family walks out of the ice cream shop, father, mother, son and daughter each enjoying a cone heaped with white and yellow scoops. The line moves up, the two girlfriends move to enter.

The air stops.

And then a wave of force expands outward, a ripple through the air moving with the force of a cement truck, it slams into the girls, the family, everyone in the crowd. They're lifted off their feet eardrums blown out, nerves shot, whole bodies numb.

It's a mercy for the fire and brimstone that follows. The flames blossom from the store, bursting through concrete sending debris flying. Stone missiles smash flesh to a pulp seconds before the fire chars it black. The boom echoes out in the wake of the explosion, a resounding thump that can be heard for miles. And then it rains. Not water, but debris, dust, ash, and charred remains.

The concrete building and everything surrounding it is flattened and smudged black like a giant oil stain. Jan & Bertha's End-of-the-World Ice Cream is gone.

A child cries, someone pleads for help and an ashened figure struggles to their feet.

In the distance, there is another thump and rumble.

And then another and another. Smoke rises in plumes all around the city.

* * *

It was chaos in the Warden’s headquarters. Men, women, capes and everything in-between running to and fro trying to make sense of what was going on. Everyone had something that urgently needed doing, everyone except Cat. She hugged the wall, inching along trying to stay out of the way. A man in half a power-suit barreled through the hallway. Any other day, Cat would have watched the spectacle with curiosity, but now she couldn’t care less. There were other things on her mind.

Cat slinked her way to the command center where the activity was most focused. But here it was directed, not disorderly. Warden agents were seated at consoles, each handling a dozen different crises.

“-building collapse on 72nd street-”

“-dispatch 23 requesting heli-evac-”

“-Treble requesting back-up at-”

And at the center of it all, handling as many reports as he could was Chevalier. Sweat lined his brow as he barked out orders in gatling gun fashion. The agents handled what they could, but when they needed something, it was Chevalier they turned to. It was on his say that determined which bombing site got the most urgent help. It was on his shoulders that he weighed the lives of one group of people over the other.

Cat had come to talk to Chevalier, but that seemed so unimportant when every second Chevalier spent was a second where lives were on the line. She resigned herself to watching from the sidelines. Occasionally, she felt an accusing glare, but it was hard to pinpoint from where amongst all the busy people. She shivered and an ugly feeling began to grow in the pit of her stomach.

An agent stood up abruptly and ran to Chevalier.

“Attack!” The man shouted over all others. “Attack on Newhill!”

Chevalier tore his gaze away from another report. “What?”

“There’s an attack on Newhill! The settlement! They’re reporting a dimension door opening up and three gunships emerging!”

Chevalier’s eyes narrowed. “Teacher.”

He whirled around and barked an order, “Pull Umlaut’s team off rescue duty, have them return here and prep for departure. Redirect EMS to replace them.”

The man nodded and ran back to his console. He wasn’t a second into his seat when another agent shouted for Chevalier’s attention.

“There’s another attack, sir! Green Lake!”

A woman stood up, her face pale. “Somersville is under siege as well, sir.”

A new wave of reports took over. Attacks on settlements everywhere. Every village, town or city that had a friendly relationship with the Wardens were sending out distress calls, requesting help. The story was the same, gunships bursting out of thin air, overwhelming the local defenses and laying waste to everything they saw.

Chevalier’s jaw clenched, taking in the bad news.

When his mouth opened, his voice was hard. “Diaz. Step up.”

A dark-skinned man rose from his chair. “Sir?”

“We’re splitting up our cape force, one-third will remain here in the city, the rest will be out responding to the settlement distress calls.” Chevalier turned his gaze to Diaz. “Divy it up as you see fit, but leave Somersville to me. I’ll assemble my own team for it.”

“You? But sir…”

“I’m going out, we need the firepower. In the meantime, Diaz, you’re in charge of operations. Stay alert, there might be a third wave to this attack. Whatever happens, I trust your judgement.” Chevalier paused for a moment and then in a softer voice, “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, Chevalier took off, walking quickly out of the room.

Cat followed close behind, on his tail the moment he went out the door.

“Let me come,” she said.

Chevalier didn’t even look down at her. His eyes were focused straight ahead, his strides long and fast.

“No.”

Cat scowled. “I can help.”

“Help by staying here. You’re on reserve duty.”

“ _Liar_ ,” Cat spat the word out, “You’re keeping me locked up in here.”

Chevalier finally deigned to look her way. His eyes were hard. “If that were true, things would be _very_ different.”

The unspoken threat shocked Cat still. Chevalier didn’t wait for her to recover, he strode away towards the hangar. A dropship sat waiting and surrounding it was a squad of Warden field agents and medics. They checked, double and triple-checked their equipment with quiet efficiency and a nervous energy.

Cat shook off her indignation and hurried after the leader of the Wardens.

"You can't do this to me!" She cried out. "Ciara's gone to help! Weld, Svetta, Matador and Clockblocker and everyone else! I'm the only one who's left behind!"

Chevalier stopped. He looked back at her and his tough veneer cracked. He seemed incredulous. "Is that what this is about?"

Cat blinked. "What?"

"I'm asking, are you just mad because everyone else is off doing something without you?"

Cat threw her hands up and let out a strangled growl. A senseless mad sound. "No! I said I want to help! Everyone else is, why can't I?"

Chevalier's lips quirked into a humorless smile. "If it makes you feel better, not everyone is out there. I wasn't lying when I said there was a reserve force."

"I don't care! Let me help!"

The empty smile vanished. "No."

Cat clutched her head and growled with frustration. Why! Here Cat was trying to be a proper Warden and Chevalier refused to listen! How stupid could he be! None of it made any sense to Cat, was this some elaborate, especially insane version of sarcasm?

"It's for your own good," Chevalier added and that only made Cat want to scream more. He turned and walked away, giving a brief word to the Warden agents who turned to follow him into the dropship.

Cat thought for a moment of stowing aboard the ship, but even under the haze of fury, Cat knew that was a stupid idea. She'd be found and kicked out like a stray who snuck into the barn.

No, Cat clenched her fists, bringing them away from her head and down at her sides. No, what Cat needed to do was stop playing the pet. She needed to go back to what she was. A lawless roaming beast, free to do as she pleased. No more of this bowing and scraping, relying on the favor of others. Cat would do things her way.

The feline parahuman took off, walking with the same determined strides as Chevalier. Agents and capes ran past her, too busy with their own crises to notice hers.

The hangar had two exits, one directly vertical, a circle that opened to the sky. And another, a runway that stretched until it opened to the outside. It was the latter, that Cat hurried her step for.

What could Chevalier do to stop Cat? Why had she acted like he could? She had simply grown too complacent. She was fast, she could teleport, Cat went where she pleased.

She wasn't quite on the runway yet, but her way was clear. The flux of dropships mostly came and went from the gaping hole above which was wide enough to accommodate even this much traffic. The runway seemed to be meant more for the antiquated models of which the Wardens had very few of.

Cat stepped onto the tarmac, not looking around, acting like she belonged.

"You should stop."

Cat flinched. She looked over her shoulder, but there was no one. Her imagination? A guilty conscious? Tentatively she took another step forward.

"Come on, kid, go back inside where it's nice and safe. No need for the heroics."

Cat whirled around, claws extending and hissed. But there was nothing but air.

"If you go back now, I promise I won't say a word to Chevalier and we can pretend this never happened.'

Cat’s eyes darted left and right, trying to find the source of the voice. Her ears weren't much help, no matter where she turned, it was like the voice was coming from her own head. But it was a man's voice, gravelly like a smoker's.

"You trying to find me, kid? Heh. Trust me, you won't."

Cat snarled, "Who are you?"

"Nobody. Your imagination. Your conscience. Whatever. Don't worry about it. Just go back inside."

Cat thought about it for a moment.

"Make me," she said.

"Yeah? That's how you wanna-HEY!"

Cat turned tail and ran. She was on all-fours sprinting down the runway.

"Stop! Damnit! You-"

The voice stopped abruptly, like a radio cut off. Good riddance whoever he was. So long as Cat was faster than it didn't matter what he wanted.

At full sprint, the runway quickly came up short, and then Cat was out in the world. The sky hung heavy with clouds overhead and the runway went on, but this area was meant more for the space than anything else. It was fenced and walled off in alternating fashion, cameras and watchtowers surrounded the perimeter watching everything. But at this point, there wasn't much use in sneaking around. Cat ran straight for the barriers.

She flickered and the floor beneath her went from concrete to wet grass in a flash. People made startled cries at her appearance as they always did. Cat had disturbed a picnic, but thankfully she hadn't landed in the middle of it. She streaked past a shocked family and flickered back.

The walls were behind her now and Cat was out on the streets of the city. Only now did Cat notice the distant wailing of sirens. The dark clouds that Cat took for granted - half of it came from the smoke that rose overhead. Fire had spread, entire neighborhoods set aflame. And though none of the chaos seemed present here - the street was as empty as a ghost-town - distantly, if Cat pressed her focus, she could hear screams.

Not knowing anywhere better to go and not having any directions from the Wardens, Cat ran towards the nearest screaming voice. Cat was going to help whether Chevalier or the gravelly voice or anyone else liked it. Cat was being a Good Person.

* * *

"Motherfucker."

Aisha looked up from a tattered book. "What's up?"

Her partner sat across from her, staring at a bulky laptop. The older girl bore a familiar expression, but one she hadn't used as much lately: barely repressed rage. Her high cheekbones and sharp chin, gave her glare a regal quality and the laptop was the poor peasant suffering it.

"What is it?" Aisha asked again, feeling simultaneously annoyed and worried.

Sophia’s scowl deepened. "See for yourself." She turned the laptop around and Aisha saw for herself.

"Fuck," Aisha said.

"Yeah."

"Lisa's gonna-"

The phone rang. Speak of the devil yadda-yadda. Aisha picked the phone up.

"Hey, you-"

"Meet me. My place."

The line went dead. Lisa had hung up.

Well, that was rude as hell, but Aisha didn't begrudge her fellow Undersider. This wasn't exactly the time for hugs and kisses.

Aisha got up and bookmarked her page. Sophia hadn't heard what Lisa said, but she was already out of her seat, gearing up.

No words necessary, that's how her partner tended to like it. Aisha set to fixing herself up as well. She was already wearing her spider-silk costume and nearly everything else she needed was in one convenient messenger bag. She picked it up and checked the contents: Knife, gun, capsaicin bombs, rope, first-aid kit, water bottle, flask of oil and lighter. Aisha added her inter-reality tinker-made phone to the mix as well as her book, Vladimir Nabokov's _Lolita_.

Briefly she wondered if she could draw any inspiration from the book to enact a fittingly ironic end for Teacher. He seemed like the type that would enjoy the book, though for all the wrong reasons.

"You good?" Sophia barked.

Aisha closed her bag. "Yeah, I'm good."

She had spaced out. Too much time reading books, not enough fighting. The peace had only been disturbed by a few minor skirmishes, nothing so brazen as this.

Sophia waited on her in a padded armor and cloak ensemble, a quiver on her back and a crossbow in the crook of her arm. Aisha had to admit, it was pretty badass.

"Let's go,” Aisha said, “We're meeting Lisa."

Sophia frowned, but nodded.

Together they set off for the coming war and Aisha hoped she wasn't as rusty as she felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're _curious_ as to why Sophia and Aisha are partners, you may read Lost Cat, Please Help's just-now-declared-prequel: [One-Sided Rival](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5776339/chapters/13312333).
> 
> This is a purely optional reading and not at all required to enjoy Lost Cat, Please Help, so feel free to skip it. OSR was my first fic in the Worm Fandom and as a result, has a few rough edges. Nevertheless the events of OSR are canon to LCPH.


	9. Curiosity - Three

The scream had faded, but Cat remembered the general direction. If there was something worth screaming about, she'd see it, wouldn't she?

Cat turned a corner too fast and tripped, her foot catching a jutting crack in the road. The crack was only a prelude. The whole street had tilted sideways, angling inwards. A pipe stuck out, gushing sludge water like blood.

Cat jumped the raised street, sliding a little when she landed. The street angled into a scar in the road, a miniature canyon. Black scorch marks marred the asphalt and Cat could make out the wreckage of molten cars that had piled into the hole. The bodies were harder to make out, but Cat could smell them there.

On the other side of the hole, a team of paramedics had set up a makeshift triage where a dozen huddled shapes lay covered in dust and crusted blood.

Cat picked up the pace, running down the slope. The cars were piled well enough that she could cross the gap hopping them, but there was uncertainty there. The metal slag was unstable, it might not hold her weight. However there was an easy solution.

Cat leapt and flickered to the other place with the grassy fields. She ran across the lawn unhindered, counting the steps. It wouldn't do to ram into some injured person.

Cat dove into the light again and emerged on the other side of the crater. A few of the injured looked up at her, startled, but most were still too stunned to even flinch.

Ahead was a lone ambulance, it was the only light in the ruined street. A pair of paramedics were out on the pavement treating a line of prone people. Cat approached them and it wasn’t until she was right in their faces that they noticed.

“What is it?” One paramedic asked in a tired voice, her forehead glistening with sweat.

“I’m here to help,” Cat said.

The paramedic blinked. “Okay? Then help.”

“What should I do?”

“Use your powers, I don’t know, you’re a cape, aren’t you?”

“I can teleport.”

The paramedic stared at her bemused. “Alright. Great. Teleport us out of here to the nearest hospital then.”

Cat frowned. “I can’t teleport with other people.”

A flash of annoyance passed over the medic’s face. “Then go help the others over there,” she jabbed a finger in the direction of a half-collapsed building, where a trio of figures were wandering amongst the rubble. The medic went back to her patient with a huff.

Cat tried not to take it personally. Cat jogged over to where the other rescue workers were searching when she spotted a woman sitting on the ground with her hands tied behind her back.

"You," Cat said.

The woman looked up, her hair was scraggly and half-covered her face. Her glare was sullen.

"Why are you tied up?" Cat asked.

The woman spat at Cat. It would've struck her in the face if Cat hadn’t flinched at the last second.

"Why'd you do that!" Cat shouted.

"Fuck you," the woman said in a hoarse voice.

Cat backed off, shaking her head. What the hell was that?

"Uh, no, no wait!" The woman shouted.

Cat had half a mind to ignore her.

 _Good Person, Good Person,_ Cat chanted in her head before turning back around.

"What?" She asked irritated.

"I'm, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. You're a cape right? You have superpowers, right?" The woman was trembling, "You can help me, right?"

Cat crossed her arms and drew closer. "Help with what?"

The woman jerked her head at a corner of the half-collapsed building.

"Over there. My, my son. He's trapped underneath. Please, you have to help."

A way to help. "Okay," Cat said with a nod.

She started to turn around and then stopped.

"Why are you tied up?"

The woman hung her head. "Please just look for him, he's there, I know it."

"Answer my question and I will."

The woman grit her teeth. " _Because they didn't believe me._ They couldn't hear him, but _I did_ and they wouldn't fucking listen."

The woman growled, an indignant angry sound that words were not enough to express. Cat didn't press the woman on what she did when they didn't listen.

"What's the boy's name?"

The woman looked up, hopeful. "R-Ricardo. Ricky. He likes to be called Ricky."

"Okay, I'll look. And listen."

Cat walked away, mindful of the intense stare the woman was giving her.

Amongst the rubble, Cat had to watch her step. She was effectively barefoot, though her paws were more weathered than a human foot, a steel shard could still cut her badly. There were three rescue workers wandering around, checking for survivors, but Cat went past them straight at the corner the mother had indicated. The front half of the building had been demolished to pieces, while the back half only barely stood. The building was only five stories tall, but with half its base gone, it was dangerously precarious. Standing right against the piled rubble, Cat yelled for the lost boy.

"Ricky!" Cat strained her ears for a response.

Nothing. She tried not to feel too discouraged. Cat pressed closer to the rubble.

"Ricky!"

Nothing. Cat could hear a lot of things, the work of the paramedics, the shuffling of the other rescue workers, and distant sirens, but a boy crying for help? Not at all.

"Ricky! Are you there?"

“You’re wasting your time!” A man shouted back. One of the rescue workers, he navigated the rubble to get to her. He was a barrel-chested man with a mustache thick with grey hairs. Just from his face, he seemed too old for this line work, but the thickness of his arms spoke otherwise. “We gone and checked for the boy, but couldn’t find any trace of him.”

“His mother heard him,” Cat said.

“So she says,” the man shook his head, “But no one else heard it. Believe me we tried to find the boy, we did. But if we can’t hear him, then I can’t risk collapsing the building trying to dig up someone I’m not sure is even there.”

“I’ll still gonna look for him.”

The man frowned. “I’ll say it again. You’re wasting your time. We already checked this area.”

Cat narrowed her eyes, glaring at the man. She wasn’t much for arguing with words.

He got the message and shook his head. “Suit yourself.”

Cat turned back to the wall.

“Ricky!” Cat shouted, willing her voice to transmit through the rubble. “Ricky can you hear me!”

Nothing.

She started to move along the wall, trying to see if the boy was in the vicinity at all. "Ricky!" Cat shouted along with a dozen different variations, each one a little less hopeful than the last. Maybe she really was wasting her time. The doubt niggled at her.

This was Cat’s problem. She never had any idea what to do. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She just did whatever other people wanted. No wonder Chevalier didn’t think her fit to go out, no wonder Weld always babied her. This whole idea of being a Good Person was just another silly whim of her’s. How could she do the ‘right thing’ when she never knew what that was?

A memory bubbled up, one that had plagued her ever since it first formed. The moment when Cat had met eyes with her doppelganger. The more she thought of it, the more that stare became something more. An unspoken request. _Come_.

With a frustrated growl, Cat slammed her fist against the wall, shaking debris loose.

"Ricky!” She shouted, “Answer me!"

A sound.

A blip in her awareness, nearly washed out amongst the ambient noise of chaos, but however faint, it was enough that Cat noticed.

"Ricky? If you can hear me, say something!"

Her ears angled one way, then another. She picked up on the direction and pressed herself flat against the rubble.

The mother’s estimation had been off. The sound came from a little further off to the right. Cat ran towards it.

"Ricky! I'm coming!"

His voice was faint, softer than the wind. "Here, I’m here."

Cat tore away at the rubble, revealing a section where the ceiling had fallen and then slid against the wall. It formed a little triangle like a two-ton stone tent.

Cat put her cheek against the slab, feeling for the vibrations behind it. "Ricky! I'm here. Talk to me. Can you move?"

"N-no."

"Are you buried? Is there rubble on top of you?"

"I... I don't think so. Th-there's some space, but it hurts. I can't… I can’t move."

"Okay," Cat breathed, studying the state of the rubble. The main piece of concrete was trapping Ricky, but it also protected him. Any other rubble had smashed against it and the sides were buried thoroughly, completely trapping the boy.

Cat worked to clear the rubble off Ricky's little slanted ceiling. If she could just get this one big piece off, then the boy would be free. She eyed the structure, it seemed stable enough that even if she moved things here, she wouldn't cause a second collapse. Or at least Cat hoped so.

“You found him?” The rescue worker was running over.

“Yes, help me!”

The man whistled for his colleagues and soon the four of them were hauling off what debris they could until they were left with only the concrete slab. A pair of crowbars came out and on either side of the slab, a rescue worker went up the rubble trying to find a crack between wall and slab.

“Fuck! Can’t get a good angle.”

The two workers started to chip at the concrete to make some space.

“Ricky?” Cat asked, speaking over the _clink-clink_ sound, “Can you hear me? We’re getting you out. Ricky?”

The boy didn’t respond. Cat grit her teeth. They needed to move faster.

“You,” Cat said pointing to the older rescue worker, “Help me pull.”

The man hesitated a moment.

“Now!”

He kicked into gear. Together they gripped the top edge of the slab.

“On three. One. Two. THREE!”

They pulled. Cat grunted, arms straining out of their sockets. Muscles stretched to their limit flaming in protest.

And the concrete didn't budge. There was no slack to give, the slab refused to move.

Cat let go, gasping.

Okay, come on. She couldn't give up like this. Not after working so hard just to find this kid. That was the hard part down. Now she just needed to get him out of there. She could do this. She was a Good Person.

Cat looked back to Ricky's prison and knew what she had to do.

Cat pressed herself bodily against the rock and measured the distance in her head. The slab was a foot thick and then given its length and its angle against the wall...

Cat could fit. She could fit, she was sure of it.

“What are you doing?” The old worker asked.

Cat ignored him.

"Ricky," Cat said to the boy, her voice gentle, "Listen to me. Make yourself small. Okay? Very small. I'm coming, I'm getting you out."

No response.

Cat tried not to think about that. She had gone too far to back out now.

Cat sucked in a breath, prepping herself.

This was probably stupid.

 _Shut up._ Just go.

Cat flickered through existence, she fell face-first, the slab gone. She curled up instantly, making herself as compact as possible.

What would happen if she teleported into a rock?

_Shut up!_

Cat pushed herself into the light.

She knew something was wrong immediately. She gasped as her body constricted, every part of her tightening like she was being squeezed into a pinhole. The pressure increased and she felt herself folding away, losing dimensions. Depth and width gone, only length remained. Her senses vanished as well, sight, sound, smell and so on. Cat only existed as a black line in darkness.

And then it was gone. Her proportions exploded outward, her senses snapped back and her head bumped hard against a rock.

“Augh!” Cat tried to roll, throw her hands out and catch herself, but she only banged them uselessly against more hard surfaces. She collapsed on top of something soft, but everything else was painfully solid.

“Urgh,” groaned the shape beneath her.

The boy! Cat lifted herself off him and there was just barely enough room to do it. Her fur bristled against him even as her back pressed against the slab.

“Ricky,” Cat gasped, still catching her breath, “I’m sorry, are you okay?”

“Hurts,” the boy said.

Cat grimaced. The boy was bleeding. It was too dark to see but their little pocket was thick with the smell.

Couldn’t waste any more time.

“Old man!” Cat shouted, “Old man, can you hear me!”

“Yeah, you’re- you’re in there?” The man’s voice was muffled, but she could hear his shock clearly.

“Yes! Listen, I’m gonna push from inside! Get ready!”

“Got it.”

It was tight in here, way, way, too tight. But Cat’s size was deceptive. Her fur made her look much bigger than she actually was and though she bumped against every loose stone, she could turn. She rotated, slowly, careful around Ricky - until her back was to the wall and her feet against the slab. Even pushing like this, Cat had to be careful. Her angle need to be perfect. She needed to tip the slab over, not slide out its bottom. Again with deliberate motion, Cat turned herself around, not horizontally, but vertically. She was on her head and hands, back braced against the wall and her feet pressed at the highest point of the slab, almost like a yoga pose.

“On three!” Cat shouted into the concrete. The blood was starting to rush to her head.

“One!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

Cat pushed with everything she had. Her whole body focused in on the motion. Push, push, push! It became her new mantra, it filled her head, emptied it, until she was nothing but the motion. It was so complete that for a moment, Cat was afraid she might vanish into the other world, but she didn’t. She pushed.

A crack opened up and a pair of crowbars fit into the gap. Men grunted and heaved, adding their strength to hers and the stone slab turned over with a ground-shaking _thud_.

Air. Freedom. Cat nearly fell over at the sudden release, but caught herself before she collapsed on the boy who she went through so much trouble for. Now that there was light she could see just how badly the boy was hurt. A metal rod - short, but sharp - pierced the boy’s stomach, pushing out an obscene amount of blood. The boy was so small, how much blood could he even have?

The boy’s eyes fluttered, adjusting to the meager light. “Ah,” he gasped with each beleaguered breath, “Ah.”

“We need to get him to the medics now!”

The old worker moved to take the boy, but Cat intercepted him and picked the boy up first. She cradled him into her arms and took off running. No time for words, just move.

She went to the place with the grassy fields and nearly stumbled. At her feet was a misshapen chunk of concrete, no larger than her fist. Cat knew it had come from her world, not this one.

No time to consider it, though. Cat found her footing again and ran. The rest of the way there was no rubble to slow her step, no jutting metal to stab her feet. Just clear grass a hundred steps away from the paramedics. The picnicking family noticed her this time. The mother and father stood, gaping while their children cowered behind them. Their dumbfounded stares irritated Cat. Why couldn’t she have teleported to a hospital or somewhere useful?

She ran across the field and at step hundred-eleven, she shifted back to the mangled city and the waiting paramedics. They jumped a little as Cat popped into existence next to her, but otherwise they had been expecting her. They took the boy, gently lowered him and then set to work.

Cat collapsed next to them, breathing hard. All the exertion was catching up to her. The hardest she had pushed on something, the hardest she had ever run and the riskiest teleport she had ever done. Cat panted, the exhaustion dulling her thoughts, but not erasing them.

Let the boy be okay, she hoped. Just let him be okay.

Motion at the corner of her eye. The bound woman was running towards them, desperation and fear lined her face. She moved to throw herself atop the bleeding boy, hold him in her arms one more time, but the old rescue worker caught her before she could.

She shouted, hysterical, but the old man held her back and tried to calm her down.

Irritating. Cat shook her head, why did she find the woman so irritating? Cat closed her eyes. It was too much. The chaos, the noise, it was all too much. She just needed a moment to breathe.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

In. Out. In-

Cat froze.

She smelled something.

Someone.

She opened her eyes. Saw the sobbing woman, the old man holding her, the paramedics, the boy just barely alive and… a flash of orange. The same shade as Cat.

It was her. At the very end of the street, far enough that no one else would notice was the beast that looked just like Cat

Their eyes locked.

And then the other cat moved. She raised a hand and in the way a parent would to a child, beckoned for Cat.

 _Come_.

Cat’s mouth opened as if to respond, but nothing came out. All thought had vacated. Her doppelganger didn’t wait for Cat to figure it out, she turned and disappeared into an alley. The invitation was obvious.

Cat got back on her feet. No one stopped her. No one even noticed, too busy with their own crises.

Good. This was for Cat alone. She followed after her doppelganger.

It was time she got some answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A difficult chapter to write. Very far removed from what I'm used to doing. Only kinda meets my personal standards, but I'm trying to keep up a good pace with the chapter releases, so here we are.
> 
> Look forward to Curiosity - Four where Cat gets [REDACTED].


	10. Curiosity - Four

Cat expected to find a whole litter of feline chimeras behind the building, but it was only her counterpart. The pyrokinetic sat cross-legged atop a pile of wooden pallets, perfect kindling for her powers. A back-up plan? Cat didn't delude herself, there were so many ways this situation could go wrong. But no matter the risks, Cat needed answers.

Cat stopped a good distance away. Enough space to dodge or run if it came to it.

The other feline watched her expressionless, revealing nothing. She gave off no sign of hostility or warmth. She simply observed the way one might study the weather.

Cat did not flinch from the stare. She refused to blink first.

The rumblings of a city in chaos echoed in the distance, but it was muted. Their little alley was far removed from everything else, it dampened the sound.

The other feline broke the silence first.

"What do you think you are doing?" She asked. Her voice surprised Cat. It was carefully structured, every word enunciated like she was a professor.

"What?" Cat asked, uncertain.

"You’re clearly confused, so I’m asking: 'What do you think you are doing?'"

Cat's eyes narrowed. "This is a trick question."

"No, it’s very straight-forward. Answer me."

Cat bit her lip, whatever game was being played here, she had no choice but to go along.

"I'm talking to you." Cat said.

"Hah," the other feline shook her head and pointed to the main street where Cat had come from, "And over there? What were you doing?"

"I was helping people."

" _Why_?"

Cat’s mouth snapped shut. Any reply containing "Good Person" seemed so stupid in retrospect. And she could hardly mention Weld or the others, so she said nothing.

"Hah," laughed the other feline, still shaking her head, "You _are_ confused."

Anger swelled in an instant. Cat could not bear the condescension. Who was this beast to mock her? As if she was _better_ than Cat.

Cat bared her fangs and growled, "Watch it."

The other feline’s smirk vanished, all humor gone as she gave Cat a dour look. "Was I wrong?"

Cat's fangs lingered out in the open a moment longer. Then with a grimace, she conceded. "Maybe not."

"Then let me help you."

"How?"

"Come with me. I’ll answer all your questions when we’re safely home."

A delay. Cat scowled. It could be a ploy.

"Answer my questions _now_ ," Cat demanded.

"No,” replied her counterpart.

Cat bit her lip, stewing with barely contained frustration. Why did everyone make her jump through hoops before she could get what she really wanted? Why couldn’t anything be easy? Through grit teeth, Cat spoke, “Why. Not?”

“It's too exposed here, the Wardens have eyes and ears everywhere."

“They’re not,” Cat asserted, “I came alone.”

“I know, but that’s not what I meant. The Wardens have many powers at their disposal. They could be watching us even now.”

Cat looked around, but there was nothing to see. No surprise there. Cat remembered the disembodied voice that had appeared out of thin air next to her. Her unseen guard from the Wardens. A leaden feeling sank into her to stomach as reality did. Just how closely had she been watched?

"Fine," Cat grunted the word out. "But that doesn't mean I'll just go with you."

The feline chimera sighed. "Can't you see we're the same? How can I get you to trust me?"

"Start with your name. That's safe to say, isn't it?"

The feline chimera hesitated as if it wasn't. But after a breath, she released it.

"Anya," she said, "My name is Anya."

Anya. Cat digested the name silently. Anya, Anya, Anya. It rolled off the tongue and it felt oddly familiar. It was certainly a better name than "Cat".

Anya hopped down from her seat and walked towards Cat. "Come with me." She held a hand out. "Let’s go home."

Cat stared at the hand.

"Anya," Cat said slowly, testing the name. She looked up at her doppelganger, searching for answers in those amber eyes.

"What am I?" Cat asked.

"You're one of _us_." Another moment of hesitation, a calculation of secrets that could be given and then Anya made up her mind. The next three and a half words were nearly silent, but Cat heard them loud and clear.

"You're my sister," whispered Anya.

"Sister," Cat breathed.

"Yes and your home is with us."

Cat didn't hear Anya past that one word. Sister. The fact settled on Cat with an inescapable certainty. As sure as Cat knew the sun would rise, she knew Anya was telling the truth. Deep down, she had known it all along, the resemblance had been too uncanny but hearing it aloud changed everything. It was a connection, proof that Cat had not simply appeared, that she had come from _somewhere_ , that she _existed_.

Anya stepped closer until the two chimeras were face to face. She took Cat's hands into her own, bridging the gap between them.

"You do not belong here, sister," Anya whispered, low and secretive, "Not with the humans."

"Why?" Cat blurted out before she could reign it in.

"Why? You have to ask why?" Anya leaned back to get a better look at Cat. "Isn't it obvious?"

Cat stared at her.

"We fight to survive, sister. The humans view us as tools. Pets to play with at best, but at the heart of it, they will simply use us as they see fit. We are not _them_ and that is all that is necessary for a human's wrath. They cannot stand the thought of equals or betters. They will dominate or exterminate us.” Anya’s eyes hardened. “Unless we _fight_."

Cat stared at her sister, shocked into silence. Anya's restrained reticence had disappeared and been replaced with venomous contempt. The very word "human" was said with a curled lip as if it was foul on her tongue.

Cat didn't know how to respond.

Anya looked away. "I've said too much."

"What," Cat shook her head, uncomprehending, "I don't understand. The humans aren't that bad. I-"

"They are! Oh, sister, the things I could tell you!" She clutched Cat's hands with her own, squeezing until it hurt. "Come with me and you'll see. You'll see how vile the humans truly are."

Cat tried to pull away, but her sister's grip was tight. "I’ve met some bad people, but the Wardens are good to me."

"Because they _use_ you. They forced you into service didn't they?"

"No," Cat said, "Not forced. They asked me to join..."

"So they pretended to give you a choice," scoffed Anya, "But what would have happened if you said no?"

Cat bit her lip, shrinking even as her sister pushed forward. At the time, Cat had been worried what the Wardens would do to her if she refused, but now that she spent more time with them, it struck Cat immediately as wrong. Weld would not have stood for such an injustice. Ciara would not have allowed any harm to Cat.

"I don't think they would have hurt me," Cat said quietly.

Anya flinched as though she had been slapped.

"You have no idea."

“Then tell me!” Cat screamed. This was insane, idiotic. They were going in circles. Whatever awful crime the Wardens had committed why couldn’t Anya just tell Cat? What was the need for the secrecy of it? A guttural growl rumbled out of Cat and turned into a shout. “How can I believe you if you won’t tell me anything!”

Anya glared. " _Come with me_ ," she hissed, "I cannot say it here, but come with me and I can show you! The Warden's lies! Their betrayal. Their's and all humanity's."

Cat wrenched her hands free from Anya's grip and took a step back. The two faced each other just out of arm's reach, their anguished expressions mirrored.

“Stop ordering me around,” Cat spat.

Anya winced and closed her eyes. For a moment, she didn’t say anything, again debating something internally. When her eyes opened, they were melancholy. Desperate.

“I’m sorry. Please understand. I can’t reveal it here. Just… just come with me," Anya begged.

The tortured plea nearly made Cat give in right then and there. This was her sister, she reminded herself. Her only family. But then she had only just found that out and what did that even mean? She barely knew Anya. The only thing Cat did know was that Anya _hated_ humans.

Cat looked away. “I don’t know.”

" _Please_."

"I… I can’t.”

Anya's face fell and her shoulders trembled.

The sight of the defeated feline struck Cat as heavy as any physical blow. Why did things have to be this way? Why were they fighting over something as stupid as this? Cat started to reach for her sister, but Anya snapped to attention, back straight, her expression hard.

"Then you've made your choice,” Anya said, her voice steely, “You really are a traitor."

"What? No," Cat protested feebly, "I don't -"

"No? You're fighting for _them_! You _killed_ our brethren back at the convoy!"

Cat gaped at her sister. Killed them? Those bird-men? She hadn't even thought about it, they had attacked _her_ first.

"I was defending myself," Cat said, but it sounded weak even to her ears.

"No. You were defending the _humans_ ," Anya spat out the last word before turning to walk away.

"They're not all bad," Cat said to her sister's back.

Anya stopped, but didn't turn. Her voice was quiet, but it carried through the secluded alley. "The next time we meet, we'll be enemies."

The threat stung, but Cat didn't dare follow her sister or say anything more, fearing that the pyrokinetic cat would erupt like a powder keg at the slightest jostle. Cat could do nothing but watch as her sister disappeared into the darkness of streets.

She stood there for a long time.

* * *

Weld dug his fingers into the concrete and lifted. The fallen chunk of building tilted upwards, exposing a pocket underneath. An ashen face poked out, a man, dazed and confused, uncertain if what he was seeing was real.

"Come on!" Sveta cried out, waving her tentacles, "Get out of there!"

Her voice shook the man awake and he started to crawl. Halfway out, a pair of hands took hold of him and hauled him out. Once he was clear, Weld set the debris down. Deliberate and slow - had to be careful not to start a cave-in elsewhere. Once that was settled, he turned to thank the person who had helped, but stopped mid-word.

A black hooded figure stood over the ashen man, checking his vitals. The ashen man was on his back, sucking in deep gulps of air. Weld's attention was more on the newcomer though. It was something of a reunion.

"Shadow Stalker," Weld said.

She didn't look up. "This guy's fine. Bruised and concussed, but otherwise pretty fucking lucky." She snapped her fingers in front of his eyes. "Hey! Hey, listen to me."

The man's eyes came into focus and they flicked to Shadow Stalker as if seeing her for the first time.

"Medical camp is that way," she said pointing, "Get over there and try not to take up too much room."

"Y-you're not gonna help me?"

"What? Carry you?" She snorted. " _No_. Like I said, you're fine. Now get up and go."

The man blinked at her.

"Hurry up!" She shouted. "Go!"

That kicked him into gear. The man stumbled to his feet and began staggering in the direction she pointed. There were a few points where he teetered, on the verge of collapse, but he managed to stay upright.

Weld shook his head. "You need to work on your bedside manner."

"What?" Shadow Stalker turned on him. Her mask was off and he had to weather the full intensity of her glare. "Don't tell me you really would have carried him over there?"

Weld frowned. "No, but there are better ways to handle it."

"Longer ways, maybe," Shadow Stalker retorted.

Weld held back a sigh. He had almost forgotten what a pain she was to deal with. But he couldn't waste the time fighting over semantics. He tapped the communicator on his armband. "Buried man in AH-10 is rescued," Weld reported.

Dragon's reply was instantaneous. "Proceed to AH-9, fourth building on the east-side, reports of buried family there."

Weld set off and to his chagrin, Shadow Stalker followed.

She didn't offer any explanation, only silently kept pace as he jogged to the next disaster zone. He had half a mind to tell her off, but that didn’t last long. In her own way, Shadow Stalker was helping. He couldn’t begrudge her that and he certainly wasn’t going to say anything to dissuade her.

Sveta didn’t have any such compunctions. “Are you here with the rest of the Undersiders?” Sveta asked.

Shadow Stalker lips twisted. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Lump me with them.”

Sveta blinked slowly. “You _are_ with them, right?”

“No.”

“You just fight and work for them, is that it?”

Shadow Stalker sneered at the tentacled girl. “I do my part. I’m not a _parasite_.”

The insult caught Sveta by surprise, but in an instant her whole body was bristling, tentacles twitching erratically. It was only the soft touch of Weld that calmed her down.

“That’s enough,” Weld said, “Sveta, our ‘friend’ here clearly doesn’t want to talk about her allegiances. Leave it at that.”

Sveta scowled, but said nothing. Good enough, Weld turned his glare at Shadow Stalker.

“Sophia,” he said and the use of her real name elicited a frown. “ _Watch your mouth_.”

Shadow Stalker raised an eyebrow. “Going to fight me over some name-calling?”

Sveta hesitated, but Weld didn’t. “After everything that’s happened, I think me _and Sveta_ deserve some respect. And yeah, I’ll fight for that if I have to.”

“Hm,” Shadow Stalker hummed, “Any other day, I would take you up on that.”

Weld didn’t respond. If she wanted the last word, let her have it, there were more important things to be doing. They went on without saying much, hopping over debris or going around where the rubble blocked the way. Occasionally they’d pass a person by, covered in dust and detritus, but none too hurt that they needed to stop. 

They slowed as they came to a collapsed building. This one had been a family home with a porch and yard, squashed between more traditional apartment buildings. Whoever had lived here must have done well for themselves, not so well that the house could withstand the aftershock tremors that had rocked through the city. The house had collapsed like a pile of matchsticks, wooden planks thrown everywhere.

Weld hurried forward, calling out to Shadow Stalker, “Search through the debris, locate the family.”

Shadow Stalker turned to mist and dove forward, slipping through the gaps of the rubble while Weld shouted for survivors, “Hey! Is anyone there!”

No response, but Weld persisted. He circled the wreckage, removing the most problematic pieces while he could. Better to do what little work he could, while he could when he didn’t even know where to begin.

Just as he began to wonder what was taking Shadow Stalker so long, she pulled up out of the cracks and reformed.

“Where are they?” Weld asked.

“Dead,” she said.

“What?”

“They’re dead. Suffocated in the basement.”

Weld frowned. “You’re sure?”

“Yes!” Shadow Stalker threw her hands up, “I found them, the whole family. Mom, dad and the kids, they went down in the basement, got buried and _died_.”

Weld fists tightened. He wished she were lying, but even she wouldn’t do that. If they had been just a little quicker… if Shadow Stalker hadn’t slowed them down… no, it probably wouldn’t have made a difference. Feeling a little more stiff, Weld keyed his communicator.

“AH-9, family confirmed dead.”

“Copy, proceed to AG-9,” Dragon’s voice replied, calm, emotionless, “Reports of a buried boy.”

“On my way.” Weld turned to Shadow Stalker. “Come on, let’s go.”

She murmured agreement and again they set off. An even run, not sprinting. As much as Weld would have liked to go full speed, too much of the city was unstable, he wasn’t sure if the pavement beneath him could take the full weight of his sprinting body much less the barely standing buildings. At the least, no more words slowed them down, they could focus solely on their mission.

A spark of orange caught Weld’s eye and he skidded to a stop.

Shadow Stalker pulled ahead of him before slowing. “What is it?”

Weld’s lip flattened. “Thought I saw something.”

“Something?”

“Looked like a fire.”

“Hm,” Shadow Stalker approached him. “Where?”

“There.” Weld pointed to the crevice between two buildings where he had seen the flare.

“Okay, I’ll go on ahead.” She looked back at Weld, preemptively cutting off any retort, “I’m faster than you.”

Rude as ever, but it was hard to argue with. Weld watched as Shadow Stalker sprinted forward, accelerating at a breakneck pace. She flickered between her shadow and material forms, each step taking her further as she became weightless as air. Weld couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy as he plodded his way after her.

Shadow Stalker slipped into the crevice before Weld had even got a quarter of the way there.

Weld didn’t have time to tell her to slow down, a second flare of orange light reflected off the building walls and he heard something crash. Weld grit his teeth and picked up the pace. “Damnit, Sophia.”

He whirled around the corner and found Shadow Stalker crouched low against the ground, nursing her side. At the end of the alley, where it turned, a flash of orange disappearing from view.

“You okay?” He asked Shadow Stalker.

“Go, already!” She barked back.

Weld didn’t need to be told twice, he took off, plowing through stray garbage cans as he chased the phantom. Any concern for the ground or for the tremors his steps made were gone, he was a two-ton man-sized freight train barreling down the alleyway and he could have ran through a bank vault. He rounded the corner and caught sight of who he was chasing after.

“Cat?” Sveta asked.

The feline chimera whipped around and snarled, at her back a white portal yawned open, casting her form in silhouette.

“Cat, what are you doing?” Sveta asked again.

A ball of flame appeared in the feline’s hand and she hurled it at them. Weld was too big, too slow to dodge, instead he dove forward into the flame, ducking his head and covering Sveta with his arms.

The fire passed over him, the heat barely a tingle against his metal skin. Once it passed, he raised his head to shout, to utter a battlecry, to let the emotion burst out somehow, but instead his voice died in his throat.

The chimera was gone, the portal winking closed.

* * *

Only a few meters away, Sophia cursed herself. She glanced down at her side where cloth and skin had melted together. Stupid to be caught so easily. She had hid herself, but not well enough apparently. The chimera had noticed her even as only a smoky apparition and then bad luck upon bad, had a power that could actually hurt her.

But more than bad luck, Sophia had been caught unprepared. She had allowed herself a moment of shock when in the battlefield that instant of hesitation was life or death. When Sophia had first peered into the alleyway, what she had seen was the chimera smashing her flame-wreathed fists into the wall. The creature had been crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry for taking so long with this chapter. I had a lot of personal issues to deal with, but along with that, I was simply very nervous about this chapter and worked a long time on it.
> 
> Of course, hearing about Worm 2's imminent arrival kicked me into gear. I know that there's no reason that a sequel fanfic can't continue normally after the _actual_ sequel comes out, but nonetheless, I'm going to try to get as much of Cat out there before Worm 2 colors everyone's perceptions.
> 
> Thanks for your patience and for reading!


	11. Curiosity - Five

In the sky of a distant world, remote with little to offer in way of resources, a battle was being fought in the air. A blue blur zipped in and out of sight, too fast for the naked eye to catch. It twisted over a laser, phased through an explosion and once clear from the flames unleashed a barrage of multi-colored lasers of its own. Lasers turned at impossible angles and struck true every time, piercing through a squadron of gunships. The effects varied - one ship plummeted as frost overcame it, another was knocked out of the sky like a giant fist had come down on it and another melted in mid-air. All of them ended the same: with a crash to the ground and a fiery explosion.

A safe distance away, a settlement watched the fireworks. They barely understood what had happened, only that the sky had suddenly lit up like the Fourth of July.

The blue blur didn’t stop to explain, didn’t even pause to check. It only turned to reorient itself and then sped off, a whipcrack following it as the sound barrier broke.

Over another world, both far away and close at once, another attack was underway. But this one could not be called a "battle", it was a slaughter.

Gunships strafed over a settlement, razing the ground with lasers and gunfire. Some people ran, some took cover, some picked up what little weapons they had and fought back. All died.

Man, woman or child, it made no difference. The gunships did not stop firing.

Until after fifteen bloody minutes, they did. Guns fell silent and lasers cooled down, the gunships hovered over the village suddenly restrained. There were still plenty of survivors, maybe half the village taking cover or fleeing - easy targets for the gunships, but they didn’t take them. Instead, they turned around and flew away.

Down on the ground, a woman wiped the blood from her eyes and watched as the gunships left as suddenly as they had come. All around her, buildings burned and people cried for help.

Dragon blinked. The physical movement mirroring the mental one as she turned her attention back to the reality in front of her. She was on an intercept course with a trio of gunships. Teacher’s assault on _her_ world. Dragon steeled herself, she’d be in range of them in only seconds, ready to unleash hell.

The gunships must have sensed her wrath because they suddenly veered off course, breaking formation and splitting up. One went left, one to the right and one pulling up into the sky. They entered range and took the first shot.

Dragon dodged it with ease and worked on her own firing solutions.

There was no hope for the gunships to defeat her, instead they aimed to split her attention, make her choose between them while their compatriots slipped past her and attacked the settlement at her back. It was insane, a suicide mission with no regard for personal safety, only a desire to hurt and kill as many innocent people as possible.

As her calculations completed, panels all along Dragon's combat suit opened up. There was one aspect of being a Tinker that Dragon regretted. It was that she never felt stronger the angrier she got. There was no boost to her power no matter how intensely she felt and no matter how much she _hated_ someone.

Missiles poured out from Dragon's suit, needle-thin, they whipped through the air, turning and twirling before they homed in on their prey. The gunships turned their weapons on the missiles, but couldn’t land a hit on the miniature tornadoes. The gunships went into aerial maneuvers, dropped chaff, pulsed jamming signals and utilized every other trick there was, but Dragon had accounted for all of it.

Every missile landed. They speared through the hull of the gunships and then with impeccable timing, exploded.

The trio of gunships crashed to the ground before they could even see the settlement Dragon protected.

Stupid. Insane.

Sending only _three_ gunships to Dragon's own town? Dragon would have been insulted if these attacks weren't so obviously a distraction. But for what?

Dragon scanned the wreckage, but found no trace of organic matter. No surprise there. But nonetheless gunships were expensive to make. Just gathering all the raw materials would be difficult, not to mention the time and effort it must have taken to assemble them. Teacher had been planning this attack for a long time now, but to what end?

Dragon kept watch on a thousand worlds wherever her reach extended, ready and waiting for the _real_ attack, but none was forthcoming. There was no attempt to steal or occupy territory or even exterminate. The gunships only sought to destroy and kill what they could, stopping just short of wiping a settlement out before retreating without any explanation.

"Insane," Dragon muttered under her breath, "It's insane."

* * *

Eleven hours after the first explosion, the attacks stop. Death and ruin below them, the gunships slip back into their portals and disappear. Hours later, when the Wardens are sure there will be no follow-up attack, they send out their tinkers and thinkers to track the gunships down. The greatest minds the Wardens have to offer work around the clock and eventually reveal where the gunships retreated. But their discovery comes hours late - hours after the gunships have retreated even farther away, hopping through worlds the way others walk.

There is no hope of a reprisal, not yet at least and the dust settles, people come to pick up the pieces. The deaths number in the tens of thousands, but the injured account for ten times that. Hospitals overflow with bodies and in the coming days, more die here than they do under the sights of a gun barrel.

Those who have lost their homes and families set out in hopes of something better. These refugees travel miles, hopping through dimensions, enduring starvation, dehydration and exhaustion. They stumble across other settlements, but are turned away. Too many mouths to feed and winter is coming, they’re told. Most refugees bitterly accept this and move on, but others can’t. Violence breaks out, the oldest kind, one hungry animal killing another.

But however many kill their fellow man, nature takes the worst toll. The dead lay scattered on the road, the survivors lacking the strength for a proper burial. It is a gruesome path that leads to the only place that will still take them. Their destination is inevitable, all portals eventually leading back to New York City of Earth Bet, the home of the Wardens. The city is still recovering from the bombing attacks, but the weight of being Heroes means that they cannot simply turn away the refugees. These are people in need and the Wardens rise to answer the call.

* * *

A jolt went through Cat, her leg kicked out over the side of the bed and for a moment it was weightless. Then it fell.

Cat burst awake, throwing herself up onto her feet. She gasped for breath, eyes flicking left then right. There was not much to see, the room lay in darkness, the time too late and too early to expect anything else. With a shaking hand, Cat clutched her chest and felt her heart racing. She had been dreaming again. Or having a nightmare. She couldn’t remember the details, only that she had been falling.

She collapsed back into bed and sighed, trying to will her heart to calm. It was hard to sleep with so much still going on. Chevalier had finally relented, agreeing to let her do her part to help out, but Cat should have been more careful what she wished for. Always there was something to be done, someone to help, some precious cargo to protect. Secretly Cat wondered if this was Chevalier’s way of punishing her for disobeying him before, but then she saw Weld and Ciara working around the clock, tirelessly. No one could compare to their work ethic. Expectations of a break were harder to come by when you didn’t need to sleep or eat.

With a sigh, Cat slipped out of bed and stretched. Thinking about Weld and Ciara had only made her restlessness worse. Her heartbeat still thumped uncomfortably loud in her chest and Cat knew she wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.

Cat left her room and began to wander. The halls of the Warden’s HQ were half-lit and dampened during the night to save energy. Not that the Wardens were any less busy at night, the opposite if anything. Agents and heroes alike paced quickly through the halls, each with their own urgent task. Cat stayed out of their way best she could as she made her way to the lounge closest to her.

This room meant for relaxation and levity was the emptiest Cat had seen tonight. A thin layer of dust covered the couches, armchairs and an open kitchen’s countertop. Presiding over the room, flickering without sound, was a wide-screen television mounted on the wall. A newstrack was being played, a rerun of yesterday’s news. A grey-haired man gabbed at the camera, behind him a hospital full of the sick and dying.

Cat frowned, glad there was no sound. She moved to find the remote so she could turn the damn thing off. She came around to the couch closest to the television, hoping the remote would just be buried between the cushions, but instead found it in the hands of a cape who lay sprawled on the couch, snoring.

White body-suit with a clock-face. Clockblocker. Did he ever take that suit off?

Cat padded over to him. Clockblocker had the remote clasped between two hands atop his chest, quietly rising and falling with every breath. It’d be unfair of her to wake him when sleep was so hard to come by these days, so she’d have to be careful.

Slowly, with the utmost care, Cat pinched the remote between two fingers and began to slide it out. Cat had always been good at this sort of thing. Quiet, precise, she likely would have made a very good burglar. Not that she would, but she totally could.

The remote popped out of Clockblocker’s hands.

Before she could celebrate her success, Clockblocker jerked awake. He gasped and his hand went out like a viper, snatching her by the wrist.

“Clock-”

“-blocker! Stop, it’s me!”

Cat blinked. Clockblocker had disappeared. She looked around and found him at the kitchen counter with a pot of coffee. He poured out a cup for himself and glanced over at her.

“Oh, you’re back,” Clockblocker said, “Let me get you a mug.”

“What-” Cat shook her head, “What happened?”

“Ah, sorry, I froze you. How do you take your coffee?”

“You froze me?”

“Yeah, sorry about that, but you snuck up on me and all. So really, it’s more your fault than mine.”

Cat scowled and started to say something, but Clockblocker went on.

“I’m guessing milk and sugar?”

Cat stared at him, baffled. “What?”

He looked over at her, meeting her eyes for the first time, “Do you take your coffee with milk and sugar?”

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“Hm,” Clockblocker hummed. He took the second mug and dumped its contents back into the pot. “What _do_ you drink?”

What kind of insane line of questioning was this? Cat still felt incredibly disoriented, like she was still dreaming or something.

“Tea? Soda? Beer?” Clockblocker said, filling in the silence, “Oh, who am I kidding. You prefer milk, right?”

Cat scowled. “Why do people keep insisting on giving me milk? No, I don’t want milk.”

Clockblocker paused, tilting his head slightly at her.

“If you really have to get me something,” Cat said, exasperated, “Get me a glass of water.”

“Water. Sure.”

Clockblocker poured her a glass and brought their drinks back to the couch. Cat took her drink more out of obligation than any sort of thirst.

“So,” Clockblocker said as he plopped down onto the couch, “I take it you’re having trouble sleeping?”

Cat grimaced. “Yeah.”

“I never really had that problem. By the end of the day, I’m so exhausted I’m just like _bam_ , lights out.”

Cat raised an eyebrow. “Then why were you sleeping here?”

“Like I said, I was watching some TV and then bam, unconscious.”

“Lucky you.”

Clockblocker shrugged. “I guess. I would have preferred to have stayed awake long enough to make it to my own room. At least there, I wouldn’t have been woken up by a strange catgirl hovering over me.”

Cat flushed red and she was thankful for the thickness of her fur. “Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No big deal. It’s close to my wake-up time anyways.”

Cat looked up. “Wait, how long was I out?”

“Nine and a half minutes, nearly the full time limit of my powers. Of course it happens now and not for something actually important.”

Nine and a half minutes. That wasn’t that bad. Cat disliked losing any time at all, but she supposed it was kind of like sleeping.

“You have an early patrol then?” She asked.

“A mission, but uh, I don’t think I can say much more than that.”

“You can’t say,” Cat said, her voice flat.

“Sorry.” Clockblocker shrugged. “Orders.”

“Of course,” Cat spat the words out, “No one tells me anything.”

A silence went over them like a sleet of snow. Clockblocker shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but Cat didn’t care. She was telling the truth. Even when she returned back to the base and Chevalier had confronted her, she knew that even then he had been holding back. She had disobeyed a direct order from him, discovered some disembodied voice was spying on her and _still_ Chevalier had acted as if nothing was wrong. He couldn’t even be upset with her honestly.

Always secrets, always lies. Cat couldn’t make sense of any of it. She glanced at Clockblocker and found him staring pensively at his mug.

“Your coffee is getting cold,” she remarked. He hadn’t sipped it even once.

“Oh, yeah.” Clockblocker shifted, but instead of taking off his helmet, he pulled out a straw from his suit and inserted it into his mask. He slurped at the coffee.

“ _Seriously_?” Cat demanded, “You’d rather drink _coffee through a straw_ than show me your face?”

Clockblocker flinched and it was ridiculous. His head drooped, the straw dangling like frozen drool. “It’s not personal. Believe me, if you saw what I really looked like, you’d be begging me to put the mask back on.”

Cat rolled her eyes. “You think I’ve never gotten an odd look before? You know I spend all day with a metal man and a tentacle girl, right?”

Clockblocker laughed. “Okay, that’s a good point.” He rubbed his neck. “I guess it’s more about my own issues.”

His voice trailed off, unwilling to go on. Anyone else might have taken the hint, but Cat only grew annoyed.

“You’re _ashamed_?” She asked and Clockblocker flinched so badly his coffee slopped out of the mug. “What? Just because you don’t look like… like _them_?”

“That’s not it. I mean, I - shit,” Clockblocker set his drink down and put a hand to his face. “You really don’t hold back.”

“No, I don’t,” Cat said flatly.

Clockblocker sighed. “It’s stupid if I say it aloud. Promise you won’t laugh?”

“If it means that much to you, then fine.”

Clockblocker lifted his head and stared out at nothing for a long time. It was so hard to tell what he was thinking with that damn mask.

“I used to think I was decent-looking,” Clockblocker said suddenly.

Cat blinked.

“Like, not Prince Charming handsome, but not ugly either. On a scale of one-to-ten, I’d be at least a seven, maybe a seven-point-five. And that’s not just all in my head either, I know some girls liked me. I didn’t really pay much attention to that sort of stuff at the time - too many monsters to fight and the end-of-the-world to worry about. But now I regret that I never did because now…”

Clockblocker looked down at his hands.

“I’m pretty fucked up.”

There was a hollowness to his voice, as if echoing something much worse than a “fuck”. Cat found herself drawing nearer to the young man. She sat next to him, not quite touching, but enough that he could feel her presence. He looked up at her, his mask as unreadable as ever.

“I don’t think you’re fucked up,” Cat said simply.

He laughed, a short little bark and shook his head. “Oh, I most definitely am. Nobody’ll say it outright, but they’ll think it.” His voice turned bitter. “ _I_ think it. Not about Weld because Weld looks good for a Case 53, but when I saw someone like Sveta? Yeah, I flinched. On an instinctual level, I’m _scared_ of her.”

“That’s only fair though, Sveta is very scary.”

Clockblocker laughed again.

“I mean it!” Cat said, “Sveta scares me all the time. Her tentacles could crush my windpipe like a straw.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Clockblocker asked, caught between laughter and confusion.

“Maybe,” Cat said, “My point is that Sveta _is_ scary, but she’s also very sweet. She’s sort of my big sister, always looking out for me, but not so strict that she can’t have fun. No matter how scary she is, I like her very much.”

Clockblocker leaned back in the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “You must think I’m a totally superficial asshole,” he groaned.

“Totally? No.” Cat smiled. “On a scale of one-to-ten? Maybe a seven.”

“Hah! That was a joke!” Clockblocker said disbelievingly, “I never would have expected you...”

Cat smirked. “Yes?”

“Nevermind, just being a superficial asshole again.”

“Of course.”

Clockblocker laughed once more. It was a default response for him, no different from someone saying “ow” when they pricked their thumb. It might have been annoying if Cat didn’t realize that this was how he coped.

“I’m sorry,” Clockblocker said, “I’m acting like a lunatic.”

“It’s fine. I promised I wouldn’t laugh.”

“Heh. No, you should laugh. I’m an idiot. What’s the big deal?” He peeled off the gauntlets of his suit, but still it revealed nothing, his hands were encased in a black silk bodysuit. That was only step one, however, Clockblocker put his hands to the bottom of his mask and then - after a moment of hesitation - pulled it off.

Cat gasped at the sight and instantly regretted it.

Clockblocker winced, but didn’t wilt. He sat boldly before her, his face a mess of stitches and scarring. Beneath it all, there was a hint of a handsome young man with fiery red hair and an easy smile, but there was hardly any untouched skin left, the stitching so extensive Clockblocker looked half-quilted.

“Scary, right?” Clockblocker said, his voice injected with false bravado.

And Cat couldn’t lie - knew it would hurt him more if she did. “Yeah, scary,” she admitted and then with a little more levity, she added, “A real scary asshole.”

Clockblocker laughed and grinned. “I’d make a joke about that, but I’m afraid I’d get written up for sexual harassment.”

“Don’t push your luck, Clockboy,” Cat said coolly, “Don’t you have a mission to get to?”

“Heh.” Clockblocker glanced at one of the many clocks adorning his suit and suddenly jumped up. “Shit! I’m late!”

“What, really?”

“Yes! Crap. Chevalier’ll be pissed.” Clockblocker snatched his mask up and clicked it into place. He gave Cat a quick glance and she imagined a smile beneath the clock face. “Thanks, Cat. You really helped me. Now I gotta go! Later!”

He blasted out the lounge, the door swinging wide behind him.

Cat stared for a moment. She supposed it would be pretty funny if the guy who could stop time was late. She glanced down at the couch and froze.

She turned and shouted, “Clockblocker!”

But he was already too far away to hear. Cat sighed and picked up Clockblocker’s gloves. He had left them behind in his rush and if she remembered correctly, these were a pretty important part of his arsenal with their fireable fingertips. She’d better return them to him.

Cat pulled herself off the couch and jogged after Clockblocker, hoping that someone out in the hallway had seen which way the clock-themed hero had run off to.

* * *

After some confused conversations, Cat managed to track Clockblocker down to a briefing room near the hangar bay. She hefted the white gauntlets under her arm and knocked on the door.

A dull sound reverberated back at her. Cat’s eyes narrowed. The room was soundproofed. Her knocking should still be audible as the door shook, but if the people inside were caught up in a discussion, it’d be hard to notice. She tried the door again, knocking a little harder.

Still no response. Cat considered her options. Wait here for who knew how long or teleport inside. The waiting seemed tedious, but the teleporting inside made Cat hesitate. She couldn’t help but feel as though that was a line not meant to be crossed. Cat brought her fist up for the third time and rapped it hard against the door.

The door swung open and a man in golden armor looked down at her. Chevalier, but despite his usual outfit, his expression was one she had never seen before. Chevalier scowled at the sight of her.

“Cat,” he said tonelessly, “What are you doing?”

The lack of emotion in his voice chilled her. Cat held out the gauntlets. "Clockblocker left these behind," she explained, "I'm just returning them."

Chevalier looked down at the gauntlets as if they were mud.

"Thank you, Cat," he said, but there was no gratitude in his voice. He reached out to take the gauntlets, but a whim took hold of Cat, she yanked them back.

"What are you meeting about in there?" Cat asked.

Chevalier’s frown worsened. "I can't say. That's classified information." He held his palm out, waiting. "If you would please return Clockblocker's gloves to me."

Cat didn't know why, but she hesitated. She tried to peer into the room, but Chevalier had only opened the door a crack, occupying the rest of the space with his armored body. She could only make out the dim glow of some sort of holographic projection.

It was orange.

Which could mean anything. It could be fire, it could be a caution sign, it could be a damn orange. A billion things in the multiverse were orange, it didn't mean anything.

Cat placed the gloves in Chevalier's waiting hand and his fist closed around it.

"Thank you, Cat," the leader of the Wardens said again and then he shut the door.

Cat blinked and shook her head. She couldn't be seen standing around here. People would get suspicious. They likely were already.

Cat walked away quickly, her head swirling with thoughts and uncertainties. Chevalier had acted odd. More hostile than he had ever been, practically exuding an aura of "go away". Was that in response to her rude interruption? Or was that because there was something in that meeting the Wardens didn't want her knowing?

Cat bit her lip. It was the latter. She couldn't say how she knew, only that she trusted her instincts. Maybe it was overly hopeful of her, grasping for straws after the disaster of her meeting with her sister. But Cat couldn’t help it, she _needed_ to know about her past.

One thing was for certain, this wasn't something she could just ask about and have someone tell her. Secret meetings tended be guarded a little more carefully than personal issues.

No, if Cat wanted to learn more about her past, then she'd just have to find out herself. As Cat came back to her room, she began to concoct a plan. This time, she didn’t think Chevalier would so easily forgive her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of Arc Curiosity!
> 
> I'll be starting the next arc soon since I'm getting back into the groove of writing. Look forward to it!


	12. Cradle - One

Dennis adjusted his gauntlets, making sure the right parts clicked. Of his team, Dennis was the only one that seemed less than 100% ready. Weld didn't need to prepare anything, his power ingrained into his very being and Opal probably never even took her costume off. Dennis might have made a smart remark that Opal was somehow more robotic than the guy made out of metal, but he didn't think either would find it very funny. Pissing off your teammates was a bad way to start a mission and with a mission as odd as this one, Dennis didn’t feel comfortable taking that risk.

The last piece of armor snapped into place. "Okay," Dennis said, "I'm good now."

Opal gave him a curt nod and glanced at Weld. "Are you ready as well?"

Weld seemed incomplete without Sveta, like he was missing an arm. Nevertheless, he replied, "Yeah, I'm ready."

“Then we’ll depart. Our rendezvous is in thirty minutes and I’d prefer to be early.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dennis said with a mock salute, but she missed the sarcasm completely.

The three of them left headquarters through one of its many backdoors. It made Dennis think of those old spy TV shows, walk into the phone booth, dial the right numbers and then the floor opens, whoosh, you’re sucked into a secret spy base. Unfortunately, this wasn’t quite as cool as that. They only headed down a flight of stairs, walked through a nondescript hallway, keyed a few security doors, and then emerged from the side of a Chinese restaurant.

Dennis considered the restaurant. The bombings had hit a lot of buildings, but even more critically, it had disabled the power for nearly the entire city. Except for this shop.

“We should get Chinese when we get back,” Dennis said.

Opal ignored him and began power-walking down the street. Weld and Dennis had to hurry to keep up. Dennis tried to catch Weld’s eyes with a _can you believe this?_ look, but Weld was nearly implacable as Opal, his expression steely serious. Just Dennis’s luck to be teamed up with the two most humorless people in existence.

If he thought about it, though, their combined no-nonsense attitude was probably meant to offset the people they were rendezvousing with.

They ducked into a building, going through the back entrance to come inside a bar. It reeked of alcohol and regrets. The lights weren’t on (which was probably for the best), but some of the sun filtered through draped curtains. It was enough to make out the three young women sitting at a table in the corner.

“It’s about time,” Tattletale said with a tilt of her head, “I was thinking you weren’t going to show.”

“We’re ten minutes early,” Opal replied coolly.

“Ten minutes early, she says,” Imp shook her head. She turned to their other companion. “Can you believe the nerve of her?”

Shadow Stalker grunted.

In her stead, Tattletale jumped in, “The nerve, indeed. I’ll have you know, this is a bad sign, getting off on the wrong foot like this, I’m not sure if you’re serious about this deal of our’s.”

Opal made no move to respond.

Tattletale's eyes flicked to Weld, but the metal man had long perfected his poker face. Last, she looked to Dennis, but he only shrugged. Who the hell knew what the boss lady was thinking.

As if hearing his thoughts, Opal finally spoke up, "Are you done?"

"Done?" Tattletale's eyes narrowed behind her domino mask. Dennis recognized the look, he had been on the receiving end of it too often not to. He wondered what revelations about Opal were being revealed to Tattletale. He might’ve been curious if he wasn’t confident they were totally boring.

“This is our first time meeting and both Chevalier and Weld warned me what you would do,” Opal said.

“And what would that be?”

“You would needle me in order to stir up a reaction, allowing your power to get a read on me,” explained Opal.

Tattletale frowned at Weld. “Giving my game away, Weld? I thought we were closer than that.”

“Let’s not exaggerate,” Weld said.

Tattletale gave a hurt look, sticking her lower lip out, but it didn’t last long. She turned back to Opal. “Either way, this has been a pretty informative conversation. I know you’ve got your power on.”

"It doesn't turn off," Opal replied.

Tattletale nodded knowingly. "I'll tell you right now your power doesn't counter mine. I can still read you like an open book."

"Is that so?" Opal said, unphased, "Anything you’d like to share with everyone else?”

“No, I know you wouldn’t care.” Tattletale glanced at Weld and Dennis. “You wouldn’t care even if _they_ did.”

Imp raised her hand. “I’d like to hear it.”

Opal ignored the interruption. “Is any of this relevant to the mission at hand?"

Tattletale seemed to give it some thought.

"No, I suppose it isn't," she admitted.

"Then may we proceed? Is your team ready?"

Imp hopped out of her seat and snapped a salute. "Yes ma'am!"

Dennis recognized the joke as his own and once again Opal took it at face-value.

"Excellent," she said, "then let us depart. We're losing daylight."

She gestured for them to follow and with a smidge of reluctance on the Undersider’s part, they did. Everyone here understood the importance of their mission. They left the bar and took to the alleys again.

"Psst."

At Dennis's side, Imp leaned in conspiratorially. "Just between us Brocktonites, what the hell is with the silver chick?" she asked in a half-whisper.

"Brocktonites?" Dennis asked.

"Yeah, us Brockton Bay natives gotta stick together, right?"

“Really?” Dennis snorted. “You’re gonna play that card?”

“Card?” Imp held her hands up innocently. “What card? I thought we were friends, Clockblocker. I thought we were tight.”

“Sure, whatever.” Dennis chuckled. “But I don’t know any more about Opal than you do. Less probably, now that Tattletale’s involved.”

Tattletale spoke up, “Less, _definitely_.”

She had been eavesdropping on them, not that their conversation had been very private to begin with. Dennis wasn’t annoyed about it, if anything it was... familiar. This whole meeting was stirring up too many memories.

Mercifully, they reached their destination. A bare but, unkempt alleyway. Stray detritus went underfoot and they passed black scorches that marred the wall and floor.

It was here that Weld had described his encounter with the feline chimera. He had chased after her thinking that it was Cat, but the fireballs the chimera threw quickly dispelled that notion. Still, Weld had said the resemblance was uncanny, like looking at a photocopy.

“There,” Weld said with a point. “That’s where the portal opened up.”

Tattletale unbuckled a device from her waist and crouched low to the ground. The device looked like an old tape recorder, but it had a screen with readings that suggested far more complex machinery inside. Tattletale pressed a button and the device began to tick, the sound ratcheting up and down until it settled into a steady hum..

“Alright, I’ve locked on,” Tattletale said. She looked over her shoulder at Opal. “And you guys are _sure_ the exit portal is clear?”

“Yes,” Opal said, “we checked with drones and our Thinkers were conclusive that the immediate area is safe.”

“You’re sure, you’re sure?” Imp pressed.

Opal gave the girl a disapproving look. “Yes.”

“I’m asking since I’ll probably be the first one in,” Imp said coolly, “Wouldn’t want to get caught on camera and then shot in the head because you were holding out on us.”

“We’re sure,” Weld said, “If you’d like, I can go in first.”

“That’s sweet, but no thanks,” Imp shrugged, “You kinda stick out, Weld. No offense.”

Weld might _actually_ have been offended. It was hard for Dennis to tell sometimes. Either way, the metal man didn’t say anything more.

“I believe we’re ready, then,” Opal said. She gave each of their ragtag team a look, visually confirming it. Finally she turned to Tattletale. “If you would, please.”

Tattletale smiled. “Only cause you asked so nicely.” She hit a button on the device and a flash of light shot out of it.

The light snapped into a line in midair and began to quiver with vibrant intensity. It twisted and bent until it seemed like a lightning bolt had been frozen just in front of them. Once the light had settled, it began to expand, pushing out against the edges, tearing open the scar in reality that had only just healed. A portal was wrenched open and on the other side, was a blocky concrete shape amidst a dense jungle. A military-style bunker. Against the vibrant greenery, the bunker was totally out of place, a defiant gesture to mother nature itself.

Imp stepped up. She looked back and Dennis could hear the grin in her voice. “See you on the other side.”

Dennis blinked. What were they waiting for again? He looked to his teammates, he was sure there was supposed to be a plan of some sort, but now he couldn’t remember it at all.

Something beeped. Shadow Stalker pulled out a phone and checked it.

“Alright,” Shadow Stalker said, “We’re good to go.”

“Uh, _what_?” Dennis asked flabbergasted, “Who was that?”

“Dunno,” was all Shadow Stalker said before she jumped into the portal.

“Damnit!” Weld and Clockblocker scrambled to the edge of portal to look in.

With bated breath they watched as Shadow Stalker inspected the surrounding trees. Her head craned left then right until finally she turned back to look at the rest of them, still on the other side of the portal.

“What are you waiting for?” Shadow Stalker growled, “Get in here already.”

They gave it another second before they filed into the portal. One step through and Dennis could feel the temperature drop instantly. The air was muggy and damp, and whatever sun there was was obscured by the foliage. A chill came over Clockblocker, but he did his best to ignore it. Shadow Stalker would totally give him crap if he shivered.

“I’m gonna scout ahead,” Shadow Stalker said.

“Sounds good,” Tattletale just as Opal said, “Hold on.”

Shadow Stalker didn’t wait for either response. Her form broke apart into a mist and she disappeared into the shadows.

Opal turned to glare at Tattletale. “Our deal included that you would listen to _my_ orders while on this mission.”

“Did it?” Tattletale shrugged and started to walk away. “Shadow Stalker’s a freelancer, she’s free to do as she pleases.”

Opal grabbed Tattletale by the elbow and jerked her back. “This is not the time for games,” Opal hissed, “These are not enemies that will play around the truce or the unwritten rules, they will kill you if you give them the chance.”

Tattletale looked down at the hand gripping her and then back up at the woman. In a quiet restrained voice, Tattletale spoke, “Then it’s better if we let Shadow Stalker go on ahead. The rest of us are pretty slow on foot. Not exactly discreet either which is what I asked Chevalier for.” Tattletale yanked her arm free of Opal. “We’re working with you as a _courtesy_ not out of necessity. Got it?”

Opal opened her mouth to respond, but a hand fell on her shoulder. She looked back and saw Weld shaking his head.

With a distasteful frown as if someone had dumped a pile of manure in front of her, Opal reared back.

“Very well,” Opal said, “Then do you agree to proceeding on foot to the bunker?”

Tattletale smirked. “I do.”

An uneasy silence settled as they progressed through the jungle. The bunker was not far, only a couple hundred feet out, but the path was not easy. Overgrown roots snagged at feet and hanging vines had to be pushed back. Truthfully though, Dennis was thankful for the physical obstacle, it meant less time for conversation. It had been a while since Dennis had seen any of the Undersiders and even longer since he had talked to his former teammate, Shadow Stalker. He loathed to imagine how catching up with them would go. Maybe they’d reminensce about Brockton Bay, about all the fights they had against and with each other, et cetera, et cetera, all events that happened a lifetime ago for Dennis.

Dark thoughts entered and exited Dennis’s head, so he was thankful that as they started to reach the bunker, Shadow Stalker flitted back into existence next to them.

“Jungle’s weird,” she said abruptly.

Tattletale shot her an annoyed look. “Weird _how_?”

“No animals. Insects, sure, but animals?” Shadow Stalker shook her head, “Didn’t see or hear a single one.”

Tattletale made a “hmm” sound.

“Like I said, weird,” Shadow Stalker said.

Tattletale considered this information carefully, but didn’t add to it. Or at least she didn’t share. Who knew what went on in that girl’s head. Instead she perked up as they came before the front of the bunker. On closer inspection Dennis could see that the structure was more than just concrete. The door to the bunker was a blast door of solid steel with a small digital keypad on the side.

Tattletale went to the keypad to figure it out while Shadow Stalker eyed the surroundings.

“No cameras or guards or anything,” Shadow Stalker said. She didn’t sound happy about it.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Dennis asked.

Shadow Stalker glared at him. “Are you an idiot? You don’t think it’s suspicious?”

“Yeah,” Dennis said with a shrug, “but we’re still going to check it out, aren’t we? Big old idiots walking into the trap.”

Shadow Stalker made a disapproving “hm.”

Dennis put on a smile and affected a cheery tone. “We’ll be fine, so long as you’re watching out for us, Shadow Stalker.”

This time Shadow Stalker didn’t make any sound, only glowered at him.

Their failure of a conversation was interrupted by a hiss and whine as the doors to the bunker strained open. Tattletale stepped away from the panel with a self-satisfied smirk. “Open sesame.”

The doors parted to reveal a staircase that led downward. Darkness enveloped the steps, the only light coming from the paltry sun filtered through the jungle. The stairs seemed dusty and disused. If this was a door that the chimeras normally didn’t use, that would at least explain the lack of security.

Or Shadow Stalker was right and it really was all a trap.

Opal held out a hand, a warm glow extending from her fingertips that illuminated the steps below. “Let’s go,” she said. No room for hesitation. Dennis and the rest of the team fell in step behind her. Together, they descended into the bunker and behind them the doors closed.

* * *

When the metal clanged shut, a figure stirred from the jungle. It was silent as it darted from tree to tree. It weaved through the hazardous jungle, its feet light and quick. No louder than a passing breeze, an orange-furred figure emerged from the jungle.

It was a creature named Cat, and she had a lifetime of experience staying hidden. She knew how to evade the attention of even the most paranoid. There were a few moments where Cat worried she might have slipped up and given herself away, but so far, so good. Or at the least no one had set off any alarms just yet. And keeping a healthy distance was step one to keeping it that way.

Exactly why Cat had waited until the bunker doors had closed. They were sturdy steel and for anyone else it would have been impossible to get past without anyone noticing. Even opening the doors the way the girl called Tattletale had would make some noise. No, what Cat could do was better than all their tricks combined.

Cat did what only she could, she leapt from one world to the next and then re-emerged atop the staircase. It was dark inside, the team already out of sight, but not out of earshot.

With measured steps, Cat followed them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the short chapter, but I had to cut it in half. This is one of those moments where I really wish this story was just complete, so the reader could just move onto the next chapter and understand exactly how Cat snuck out of the Warden HQ instead of just having to take it for granted. Hopefully it's not too awkward. Either way, expect the next chapter soon!


	13. Cradle - Two

 The stairs went on for what felt like forever. There was no turn, no landing and not even a single mismatched step. It was a steady unchanging descent down into the darkness. Lisa considered the possibility of a Master effect, some sort of illusion that could fool even her power, but before she could voice her concerns, the stairs finally ended.

They had come to a long empty hallway lined with doorways on either side. The wall, floor and ceiling were a uniform white and the light from Opal's hand reflected easily off the surface, but otherwise it was completely dark. The air was stale, thick with dust and too still. Only the quiet hum of ventilation ducts assured Lisa that there was any air at all to breathe.

This whole set-up though, the blank color palette, the sterile environment - Lisa didn’t need her power to know what this place was.

"This is Cauldron..." Weld whispered - totally stealing her thunder.

"Was Cauldron, at least," Lisa added. She bent down to inspect the floor and sure enough she could just make out an uneven pattern in the dust.

_ -base abandoned for long period of time- _

_ -only recently disturbed- _

_ -size of tracks suggest bigger than rat- _

_ -leads to there, there, there, there , there, th- _

Lisa shook her head, clamping down on her power before it went haywire. Too many possibilities and too little details. There was only so much she could confidently extrapolate from dust on the ground.

“Any ideas on where to start?” Weld asked.

“No, not yet,” Lisa said, “Let’s keep moving.”

They walked down the hallway, their footsteps echoing softly. Opal and Shadow Stalker lead the way while Weld and Clockblocker brought up the rear. Lisa was set in the center like a VIP - which she pretty much was. Lisa had never been much in a fight, and if they did end up running into some rabid animals, she wasn’t confident that she could talk them down. Sad as it was, Lisa needed the protection, but she didn’t feel too bad about that. After all, she was the one who was going to figure out this whole mess.

_ -dust swept back- _

_ -door recently opened- _

“That one,” Lisa said, pointing at the door that caught her attention. “Someone’s been in there within 48 hours.”

Opal stepped up, her voice low. “Two on each side, Tattletale stay back.”

Just how Lisa liked it. She retreated to the sidelines as everyone else got into position. Opal put one hand on the door, ready to open it while Shadow Stalker raised her crossbow, aiming where the crack would form.

Opal held up three fingers. Then ticked down to two. Then one. Zero.

The door swung open and they dove inside.

A second passed.

_ -no commotion- _

_ -no one inside- _

_ -no announcement from Opal- _

_ -room not clear- _

_ -places to hide inside- _

Lisa got up, walked past Weld and Clockblocker, and went inside.

“Tattletale!” Weld hissed, but she ignored him.

Her focus was on the room. Rows of shelves that went from floor to ceiling, they were laden not with books or boxes, but foam filling. And spaced out a half-foot from each other, were little round holes just big enough to stick a finger in.

Lisa walked past Opal and stuck her finger in one. The foam was a little stiff, but still soft.

“Tattletale,” Opal said, looking annoyed, “We haven’t cleared the room yet.”

“No need,” Lisa said, “We’re the only ones here.”

“And you’re sure of that?”

“95% sure.”

“Not the number I wanted to hear,” Opal said, “Stay here, we’ll clear the room.” She waved Weld and Clockblocker into the room while she and Shadow Stalker began to check the aisles.

“Sure, sure,” Lisa said, she craned her head left and right, trying to find any discrepancies in the shelves. But it was the same no matter where she looked. Every shelf was filled with the same foam, and all the foam had the same _empty_ holes.

_ -holes are 18mm in diameter- _

_ -meant for delicate items- _

Lisa glanced up. There were more ventilation ducts in this room than in the hallway. More than necessary.

_ -separate cooling system- _

The thoughts snapped together in Lisa’s mind.

_ Vials. _

This was a room meant to store vials. And they were gone.

_ -taken- _

Shit. Lisa started to move, but stopped. Something was off here.

“Opal!” Lisa shouted.

A pause and then Opal shouted back, “Is there a problem, Tattletale?”

“No, I just wanted to know if you’re done checking the room!”

Another pause - _frustration_ \- and then: “No.”

“Could you hurry it up! There’s something I need to check.”

No response.

“Fuck it,” Lisa muttered, she left her aisle and began scanning the next.

Clockblocker started to approach her. “What’s-”

Lisa held up a finger. “Sssh!”

Clockblocker looked at Weld in disbelief. “She just shushed me.”

Lisa tuned him out. She moved onto the next aisle. Just as empty as the last two. She pressed a hand into the foam and though it was soft, it was  _ stiff _ .

She went to the next row and it was here that she saw something. It would have been impossible to notice without her power. An indent in the foam. Lisa approached the tiny mark. Not just an indent, a scratch. What was really curious was that it wasn’t near any of the holes. It ran between them.

_ -not purposeful- _

_ -swing of hand- _

_ -careless- _

_ -in a rush- _

Lisa leaned back on one of the shelves, allowing the details to assemble in her mind. There were so few details to work off of, but it was enough. It was only on the tip of her tongue.

She started walking in the general direction of Clockblocker and Weld.

“It’s a room for storing vials, but all the vials are gone,” Lisa said.

“What?” Weld asked.

“Cauldron took them away, cleared the whole stock out with Gold Morning coming. Maybe even earlier. Point is, this place was empty.”

“Uh, Tattletale?” Clockblocker said, “You okay?”

“Fine. Don’t ask me stupid questions, trying to think here.”

Clockblocker turned to Weld again. “She told me to shut up, but not you?”

“Both of you shut up,” Lisa said, “I just need you to listen. It’s better if I work this out aloud.”

A sigh from them each, but they did shut up.

“Place was empty. No more vials,” Lisa said, regaining her train of thought, “But it’s been visited recently. An intruder, the chimera. She knew about this place, but not that the vials were gone - suggests some level of insider knowledge.”

Lisa bit her lip. She needed more. As an old friend would have said it, she needed information they could actually  _ use _ . She concentrated, trying to find the right track.

“She’s in a rush. She. Singular. In a rush and sent off alone. They - plural they - are spread out, searching loose ends, even going so far as to check this remote base they barely know anything about. They need those vials. Urgently, desperately.”

A twang of pain lanced between her lobes. Lisa winced. It was the beginnings of a thinker headache. But better to keep going, continue while she had momentum on her side.

“Need to bolster their forces. Threatened. Willing to take the risks if it means getting an army. On the defensive? Fighting someone else?”

Lisa shook her head. “I’m not sure about those last details.” She frowned. “I need more information. I need-”

A door slammed. Not the door to their room, but elsewhere in the vast stretches of the facility. With how loud it was, it had to either be very close or very strong. The sound lingered, even the echoes echoing. The whole damn facility was too hollow.

Weld and Clockblocker tensed, ready for a fight while Tattletale drew her pistol.

The three of them waited in expectant silence.

Nothing happened. The echo gradually began to fade.

Clockblocker spoke up first, “Any ideas what that was, Tattletale?”

Lisa frowned. “I have ideas sure.”

“Enlighten us then.”

“It’s big.” Lisa’s frown worsened. “And it’s quiet.”

“Wonderful,” Clockblocker said.

 

* * *

Cat bided her time in the crevice of a doorway. It was seven or so doors down from the one where the Weld and the other Wardens had gone. With how dark it was in here, Cat didn’t have to worry much about being spotted - the real worry was getting heard. This place was just too damn quiet. Lifeless.

A bang rang out through the facility. A door being slammed closed, or slamming open, Cat couldn’t tell. If she really had to guess, though, she’d guess the latter.

Cat bit her lip and glanced at the door where Weld should be. Briefly, she wondered if she ought to check. She knew Weld could take care of himself, but still Cat couldn’t help but worry. She might think Weld was invincible, but if she couldn’t see him, then how could she know for certain?

No, Weld could take care of himself, she told herself again. What Cat needed to worry about was herself. If trouble found her, Cat wasn’t entirely sure she’d be fine. Her power worked with an analogous location, matching her position from one world to another, and since she was deep underground would she just appear in the middle of a rock? Or be buried in dirt? Cat wasn’t really eager to find out either way. The only time when her teleportation had been difficult was when she had gone out of her way to rescue the boy -  _ Ricky,  _ she reminded herself - from the rubble. She had swapped places with a few stray bits of debris but nothing so substantial as an entire body’s worth of earth.

Cat’s claws slowly slid out from her fingertips and the muscles in her body coiled in anticipation. Better to fight first than to risk being smooshed into stone. Cat let her breathing slow, her eyes sliding left to right. She had faith in her senses. If she could see or hear whatever was out there first, she would be fine.

The hallway remained quiet. And nothing stirred from the room the Wardens had gone into. A good thing, Cat decided. If there was a fight, she would hear it, she was sure of that.

Nevertheless, the silence unnerved Cat.

Normally there was always a degree of ambient sound. Some white noise that most people didn’t even notice: the buzz of lightbulbs, the passing breeze,  and even the faint sounds of _existence_ of the people around. The breathing, the creak of their joints, the rustle in their clothes, and so on. But here there was nothing.

Nothing, but the sound of Cat’s own thumping heart.

Cat grit her teeth (and that little grind buzzed in her head). She was panicking. Not screaming, arm-waving panicking, but she was losing her cool. Calm, she willed herself, calm, calm, calm.

Her little mantra didn’t help much.

This was stupid. Waiting for whatever was out there to find her. Giving up the initiative, letting them sneak up on her. Cats were meant to be predators, not prey.

Cat took a step forward, her feet naturally padded. She took another, then another. She came out of the crevice and stood in the hallway, focusing again on her senses.

Something weighed on her shoulders. Cat started to turn.

Her cheek pressed against a knife.

“Don’t move,” a girl said.

Cat did not move. As much to obey and preserve her own skin, and because of shock. This girl had _snuck up on her._ It must have been a Stranger power. Cat’s first encounter with a Stranger and they put a knife to her throat. Weld would be so disappointed.

The girl was behind her, unseen. She had one arm wrapped around Cat’s neck while the other held the knife against her face, just a hair above her jawbone and uncomfortably close to her throat.

“You’re going to walk forward. Slowly.” The girl spoke in an even tone. Cold-blooded. “Don’t give me any reason to kill you because I will.”

“Okay,” Cat said. She tried to keep her breathing steady -- didn’t want her chest to rise or fall too rapidly and have it be taken the wrong way.

“Good,” the girl said, “Start walking.”

“Okay,” Cat said again and began putting one foot in front of the other. Small, slow steps. What a mess she had gotten herself in. She wasn’t even sure if she could teleport away. It wasn’t exactly instant -- there was the whole “shimmering with light” deal that would probably give it away if she tried.

But if Cat managed to distract the girl, separate from her for an instant, maybe she had a chance.

“Who are you?” Cat asked.

“No one you’d know.”

“Where are you taking me?”

The girl’s voice took on an easy tone. Amused. “If it makes you feel better, not far.”

It did not make Cat feel better.

“What are you doing here?” Cat asked, starting to grasp at straws.

The girl gave a small, short laugh. “That’s enough questions,” she said, “Keep walking.”

They made slow, plodding progress down the hall. The girl not loosing her grip and Cat careful not to give her reason to tighten it. There were only a few doors away from the door the Wardens gone in. Could Cat make a break for it, jump into that room, hopefully get back-up from them?

But if she did that and the girl ran away… the girl might gather her up own allies to hunt Cat and her friends down. If Cat ran to her fellow Wardens, she’d be practically serving them up on a platter.

At the same time, Cat couldn’t just let herself be taken away either. Too many uncertainties and dangers lay there.

Best case scenario was still Cat handling this on her own. As to how she’d do that? Well, Cat had never been much of a schemer. And even less of a manipulator, her one go at a conversation aborted before it had even really begun. No, Cat could only do what Cat did best. She would act.

The next step forward was half as short as the others, and the girl behind Cat overstepped just a fraction. The tiniest gap formed between knife and neck.

Cat’s head whipped to the side and she bit down on the knife. The girl yelped and tried to cut Cat open, but the knife was caught between her fangs. There was a brief tugging match and the edge sawed against the rim of Cat’s mouth, but found nothing further. Blood oozed into her mouth and with growl, Cat swung an elbow back and into the girl’s side.

An “oof” was pushed out of the girl, she staggered back and Cat whirled around, claws at the ready.

She paused.

What was she doing again?

Cat winced, her mouth aching. The corner of her lips were cut. Not deep, but the tissue there was soft and the bleeding was no joke. Cat spat out some of the blood that was starting to fill her mouth.

Something had happened to her. She was reminded of her encounter with Clockblocker, but in that instance everything, but her had moved, here it was the exact opposite. Nothing had changed in the hallway except where she was in it and the bloodstains she had just made.

It was power shenanigans of some kind, that much was obvious. Cat kept her body coiled and tense. She wasn’t dead yet, so that meant whatever had happened she could fight back.

She turned around and froze.

Down the hallway, only a few meters away was a hulking figure. It was massive, it filled the hallway with its presence. How long had it been standing there? How had Cat not noticed it sooner?

It had to stoop to keep its head from scraping against the ceiling, and the rest of its body bulged with muscle. It was vaguely humanoid in shape, but there was nothing natural about it.

It took a step forward, still absolutely silent, but now Cat could see it a little clearer.The beady eyes, the pointed snout and the dull skin that seemed to absorb light. It was a chimera, no doubt about it and its animal heritage resided in the ocean, where it reigned supreme.

The chimera smiled, baring rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth.

It was a shark and it eyed Cat hungrily. It smelled blood.


	14. Cradle - Three

The shark moved first. It dove with jaws wide open. Cat leapt to the side, slammed into the wall and whirled around in time to see the shark skidding around to face her again.

It was a top-heavy and neckless. Its head melded seamlessly into its chest and its jaws were as wide as its shoulders. The shark's mouth opened and closed continuously as if biting the air, tasting it.

And still, it was silent.

The shark chimera lunged again, arms outstretched on either side to bear hug Cat. She skipped back out of its reach, but that didn't stop it, it only picked up speed.

Cat hopped another step back and then planted her feet firm. A fraction of a pause and the shark was in arm's reach.

Cat dove down and to the side, under the shark chimera's arm. The shark tried to twist to catch her, but Cat was too small, too fast, especially when compared to the gray-skinned hulk. Momentum carried it forward and the shark skidded for a few feet before it stopped completely. What should have been a squealing sound was muted to only the whoosh of air.

It turned to face her once more and Cat saw its mouth still bit at the air. The jaws were picking up speed, trembling. Vibrating.

Briefly, Cat wondered if it was trying to talk to her.

It raised a hand and Cat stared uncomprehending. Did it know sign language?

The hand swung back like a giant pendulum and formed a fist. Cat had no idea what that meant, but she found out soon enough.

The fist swung sideways into the wall and the debris exploded outward.

Cat yelped and threw her hands up to cover her face. Flecks of concrete slashed at her and one chunk cracked against her skull, she reeled back and crashed to the floor on her back.

As her eyes opened, she saw the shark had leapt forward again, trying to grab a hold of her while she covered herself. The rock that had hit her had knocked her just out of reach.

Its teeth jittered for a second and then slowed. A twinge of frustration? Cat felt a hollow pit forming in her stomach. This thing was smarter than it looked.

But it was still slow. It turned to reorient itself, trying to bend to scoop her up, but that little rotation was slower than anything else it had done. Cat skittered back, pushing away from the shark's grasping hands, she bounced up to her feet meters away.

The shark's jaws twitched again. It didn't go for another charge, only stared at her. It was so silent Cat wasn't sure if it was even there. There was no heartbeat or breathing to hear, the shark seemed to swallow all sound like a blackhole.

Cat opened her mouth to say something, to get the shark to stop, but as her lips parted, the cuts on the edges of her mouth split and ached. She faltered and took a step back.

Again, the shark’s jaws twitched and Cat finally understood what it was doing.

Laughing. The bastard was laughing.

Cat forced through the pain to speak. “Fuck you,” was all she said.

The shark continued its soundless laughter and spread its hands to either side. Another bear-hug charge? No, its fingers had dug into the walls. Before Cat could comprehend that detail, the hands clapped together and though the shark made no sound, the walls tearing apart did. Debris flew at Cat from either side.

Cat had good reflexes. The best even. But there was no dodging this, the stone shrapnel that flew at her was so dense, the shark might as well have thrown the whole wall.

There was only one thing left for Cat to do.

She leapt back and let the light wash over her.

Darkness swallowed Cat and for an instant, she thought she really was dead.

Then she coughed and the sound echoed, each repetition an affirmation of her survival. Cat let out a sigh of relief and tried to get her bearings.

She was in a dark place. Or rather, not dark, but _black_ , as if her eyeballs had been painted over with ink. Cats - actual cats - could see remarkably well in the dark, but that required at least _some_ light. Here, there was nothing.

Cat really did hate her power. No one else’s power stranded them in dark nothingness. The only upside to it was that she hadn't died instantly, mushed into rock or something. And the fact that she had escaped being stoned to death either. That was pretty nice. But where was she?

Cat held her hands up and felt nothing. Slowly she turned in a circle until her hand bumped against something.

The something flitted away.

"Who's there?" Cat hissed, she crouched low, claws sliding out.

Nothing answered her.

But there was a sound, a shuffling that came and went. The floor was stone, abrasive, and uneven. It was easy to pick up when something ran across it and whatever had been next to her was now running _away_.

Cat let out a sigh of relief and the walls echoed her breath.

She had bought herself a moment of respite. The environment and conditions weren't the best, but that was fine. Cat reached up to her face and prodded at her wounds. The cuts at her lips still ached, but they only hurt, nothing more. The blood was already starting to dry. The other wound was to her head, where the debris had struck her. Here, the blood was fresher, but as Cat gave it a good poke, she realized that the rock had only scraped her, tearing off the skin.

The force of it, though... Cat remembered how it had knocked her back. If the rock had made a direct hit, then she'd probably be dead.

Not a fun realization. Cat couldn't keep dodging attacks from the shark chimera. If she wanted to get anywhere, she needed to turn the fight around.

She couldn't stay here for forever. Besides the fact that she had no idea where this was, it was too damn creepy.

Cat started to reorient herself. She had a good sense of direction even in the darkness. She remembered where she had been facing when she teleported in, remembered how far she had turned she felt the shape behind her. She matched the directions with her memories of the hallway. If she turned this way and took this many steps...

There.

Cat took a deep breath, flexed her muscles and readied her claws.

She jumped into the light.

Ten steps away from where she had vanished, Cat reappeared.

Not much had changed for the few seconds she had been gone. The only difference was that Cat had more or less swapped places with the shark. It was crouched over the spot where she had disappeared, sniffing at the ground like a hound.

It looked up as Cat emerged from the light. Confusion flashed in its beady black eyes.

Cat charged the monster.

It started to rise, but though the shark could be fast diving forward, it wasn't very agile. Slow to turn, slow to rise, Cat was at its back before it had even gotten off its knees.

Her claws shot out, gouging into his back. Rough grey skin peeled off, but there was no blood.

The shark gnashed its teeth and swung a log-sized arm at her, but it had no angle, the strike was slow and unwieldy, easy for Cat to sidestep. Cat kept tight to the monster, positioned at the small of its back. She swiped at its back again and again. She dodged another unsteady swing and answered with four of her own.

The shark stomped its feet, tried to back up into her, but it was slow. Almost laughably slow, as if its joints could work in one direction, but not the other.

Cat raked her nails over its back and this time blood came back. The shark had thick skin, but now that she had opened it up, she only needed to pick at the wound. She cut deeper into the shark, relentless.

Still, the creature was silent. Not even a squelch or splort as blood flowed freely from its back. It kept walking backwards at a snail’s pace and Cat was forced to match it. Until she realized what it was doing.

The shark was backing up to the wall. If she stayed where she was, she'd be crushed.

When Cat felt the heel of her foot press up against the wall, she knew she had no more time left. She would have to settle for the damage she had gotten so far. The shark's back was a mess of red, hopefully it'd bleed to death.

Cat gave the shark one more slash and dove to the side before she could get squashed.

It had been exactly what the shark was waiting for. A hand shot out and snatched Cat by the ankle. Before her forward momentum had even halted, the shark slammed her facefirst into the floor. Her skull bounced off the concrete with a fat thunk.

The whole world went sideways, Cat tried to blink it straight, but that only made it worse. Her whole body felt stiff and heavy, a delirious thought wondered if this was what the shark felt like. She felt the world slide, the rough floor running against her belly. Something was pulling her back.

She looked over shoulder.

The shark's jaws were no longer opening and closing. Now they were just open.

Panick surged through Cat. She needed to run. She needed to... to... _Jump_ , she thought. The idea and action were disconnected. As if she were only a passenger in someone else's body. She groaned.

The heat of the shark's breath washed over her. It reeked of rotten meat.

The hand reeled her in.

Until it stopped. The hand, the sliding, even the breath. It all stopped.

Cat turned her head and the world tilted in response, but through the haze of dizziness, she could make out the shark chimera's gaping maw hanging over her leg. Just... hanging there. With how much it had been opening and closing its damn mouth, Cat figured the thing would have been quicker to bite into her. Something was odd here.

"-hear me?"

Cat blinked. What? She turned to look for the source of the noise. It couldn't be the shark after all.

A group of people stood over her, of them, her eyes went to another greyish creature. Or man. Or Case 53. Whatever it was he liked to be called. It was Weld.

"Can you hear me, Cat? Hey!"

"Weld," she said. Or tried to say. It sounded much more like "Wuuugh."

Hands cupped her head. She wished she could say they were uncomfortable, but they weren’t. The hands were heavy and hard, not at all suitable for pillows. But at the very least, they were cool. Like a glass of cold water.

Cat closed her eyes and drifted off.

* * *

“Weld!”

Fingers positioned themselves in front of his eyes and snapped. “Weld! Come on, get it together.”

The metal man blinked, shook his head. “Cat needs help.”

“And she’ll get it once you move out the way,” Tattletale said, “Imp’s got it covered if you just give her the room.”

Weld glanced over at the girl as if just remembering her. In her hands was a first aid kit that she was rummaging through.

“I mean, I could work around you,” Imp said, “But it’d be a huge pain in the ass.”

Weld grimaced. “You’re right, sorry.”

He carefully extricated himself from Cat, handing her off to Imp. The girl moved with deft and practiced motions, treating the wound with the same professionalism as an actual medic. Weld stared transfixed, hoping that would be enough.

“Hey, Weld,” Tattletale spoke again, taking his attention, “I know you’re upset right now, but think you could help me out with something?”

Weld grit his teeth. If he didn’t answer now, she’d just ask again. “What is it?” he said.

“Well, we still got this giant man-shark...” Tattletale said, trailing off.

“I can stun him,” Opal added, “But your help restraining him would be appreciated.”

For once Weld was thankful for his lack of blood, otherwise he would’ve flushed red. He was being ridiculous. Understandably upset, but ignoring what needed to be done.

“How much time left, Clockblocker?” Weld asked.

Clockblocker shrugged, but Tattletale answered. “Two minutes, so the faster the better.”

Two minutes. Weld could work with that.

The shark was already up against the wall so that was one complication taken care of. Now they only needed to keep it there. Weld began to shift the metal in body, he could force it to take any shape so long as it was attached to him. Normally he kept his form fairly humanoid - it was more approachable for the common person - but really there was no limit to what he could form his metal into. His only real limitation was speed. The changes were not instant, so he had to do as many of them at once as he could.

Weld lined his body up with their shark’s, practically hugging the monster. In a gradual process, rings of steel arched out from Weld’s body until they dug into the wall behind the shark, pinning its legs, arms, chest, and basically anywhere there was space. Weld would probably end up being a few hundred pounds lighter using this much metal, but given the size of the shark it was necessary.

“Thirty second warning,” Tattletale said.

Weld peeled himself off the next second, cutting the connection between his body and the metal rings now holding the shark in place.

“I’m done,” Weld said.

Opal raised her hand and put it in an inch from the shark’s chest.

“Ready,” Opal said.

Tattletale nodded and then pointed down. “And the hand holding Cat?”

Weld had been preparing for that, too. He raised his fist which had formed into a giant meat cleaver. “Handled,” he said.

Tattletale gave him a long stare. “You don’t think that’s going too far?”

“No,” Weld said. He looked to Opal. “Cauterize the wound when I’m done.”

“Got it.”

Tattletale pursed her lips. “Alright. We got fifteen seconds.”

“How exact is that?”

“Not very.”

Weld sighed. “I figured.”

He raised his cleaver hand, ready for the instant the shark chimera came free. In his head, he counted the seconds.

Twenty seconds later, the shark snapped back into motion. Its jaws clamped down expecting a tasty meal of feline, but instead found steel bars holding it back. A line of electricity leapt from Opal’s hand to the shark’s chest and the shark seized for a moment, stiff as a board.

Weld brought the cleaver down in the next moment. The blade cut clean through the flesh, meat and bone and the hand detached from body. Blood gushed from the open wound.

Immediately the shark erupted into a frenzy. Limbs slammed into steel bars, head swung wildly against its cage, every muscle in the shark’s body seemed to flex and strain against their bonds.

And not a sound was made. Wherever the shark’s body touched, sound was swallowed whole.

Another line of electricity sparked from Opal and the shark was shocked still. Then while the hulking monster was paralyzed, Opal raised her other hand and pressed it against the bleeding stump of the shark. Smoke sprang forth on contact, flesh burned and melted over the open wound.

The shark jerked wildly again, straining against the steel bars, but there were too many and they were too sturdy. Even with the shark chimera’s enhanced strength, it could not break through.

They watched as the shark struggled in vain, until finally it tired.

The shark hung limp against its bonds. Its head slumped, its jaws still fit uncomfortably into the metal braces. The only real movement came from the creature’s eyes which flicked from left to right, staring at the six who stood before it.

Tattletale stepped forth.

“Let’s talk,” she said.


	15. Cradle - Four

“Let’s talk,” Lisa said, knowing the shark couldn’t.

The shark gave her a sullen look, but gave no sign of comprehension. More and more details flashed into mind the longer she looked at the grey hulking beast. Pieces to the larger puzzle - those she’d save for later - as well as more immediately relevant information.

First, the shark chimera was mute. Not deaf though, it could understand her, but any sound within a few centimeters of its body was nullified. That included its own voice. The shark was a low-level stranger, probably the lowest level Lisa had ever seen. She was _pretty sure_ it didn't have any other powers. Besides already being a monster.

The shark shifted its head and gnawed at the bars holding its jaws back. It wasn’t a frantic action, it was calm, testing the waters. The metal started to scratch.

“Stop that,” Lisa said.

The shark ignored her, working its teeth back and forth, filing at the metal.

“I know you can hear me. You're already down one arm, do you want to make it both?”

It didn't react.

"Weld," Lisa said.

The metal man stepped forward, his hand already shifting into a blade.

That got a pause from the shark. Slowly, its jaws eased back. Beady dark eyes looked down at Lisa. The look they gave off was not hateful, it was curious. And hungry. Wondering how she would taste.

Lisa forced a smirk on, mentally discarding that last thought.

“Let’s just establish a few things, okay?” Lisa said, “You’re used to people not understanding you, so you think you can get away with a lot. But I'm a mind-reader, you can't play dumb with me. I know you’re smarter than that.”

The shark trembled, teeth soundlessly clinking against the metal bars as they opened and closed. Laughing. It was laughing.

Annoyance sparked in the back of Lisa's mind. She tried not to let it show.

"There's being brave and then there's being stupid. Cooperate and this’ll end better for you."

The shark's head tilted back as far as it could go (which was not far), its jaw still shuddering with laughter. Before Lisa had to call in Weld to present the muscle to her argument, the shark's eyes flicked down and to the side, to its one remaining hand. The fingers fiddled at the air.

The details filled in.

_-knows sign language-_

_-can communicate-_

Cut that off and it can't talk.

_-doesn't believe I'm a mind-reader-_

_-certain of it-_

Lisa rolled her eyes. "We have other ways of making you talk besides just taking your arm. Let's cut the crap. Are you going to cooperate or not?"

The laughter slowed to a stop, the shark paused to think.

Then slowly, its whole body inching as far as it could, it leaned forward. Its eyes met with Lisa's and again, she could see the hunger in there.

_What's in it for me?_

"Aside from your life?"

It snorted, uncaring.

Lisa scowled. This whole situation was getting on her nerves. It was tough to get a read from the shark’s unconscious cues when its body was so different from any human’s. There was nothing to blackmail the chimera with, no one to threaten but itself. Zero leverage except physical violence which was just not Lisa's preferred M.O.

"Opal," Lisa said, turning to the woman, "How has the research into the chimeras been going?"

Opal frowned. "I can't answer that."

Lisa rolled her eyes. The woman could not even pretend to play along. Whatever, Lisa could work with it.

"Right," Lisa said, "I'm sure you don't know anything about that. Nothing about taking the corpses of the chimeras from that one time and dissecting them, figuring out what they are and all that."

Opal gave no sign of reaction.

"I'm sure they've gotten very far with their research, but..." Lisa glanced at the shark. "There's only so much you can learn with a dead specimen. A live one would be much more interesting to pick apart."

The shark was no longer laughing. It’s breathing had slowed, abnormally still.

_-phobia of being dissected?-_

_-medical-related trauma-_

A shot in the dark and Lisa had landed the mark perfectly. People would chalk it up to her power. They’d be wrong, but Lisa wouldn’t dissuade them from that notion.

She smirked. "It doesn't have to be that way, of course. If we got you into an informant program, you'd be worth more alive and happy than alive and in pieces."

The shark didn't respond, but Lisa didn't push it. It would need a moment to come to the decision itself. But it wouldn’t take long, either. There weren't a lot of options for the chimera.

The shark tilted its head back and forth a fraction - a nod.

"Good," Lisa said, grinning, "Now let's start with the basic questions: Are you alone?"

Hesitation, but eventually the shark nodded.

"Is anyone coming for you? Back-up?"

The shark shook its head.

Lisa nodded. There was meaning there, but that could wait. "Alright, time for the big questions then. What are you? Where do you come from?"

A pause and then the shark shook its head.

_-won't say-_

_-can't say-_

A mental block? That was inconvenient. Lisa was about to say something more, when the shark jerked its head in the direction of its hand again. The fingers waggled at her like a little hello.

_Release my arm and I'll explain._

Lisa frowned. She was _not_ a fan of giving the roided-up shark monster a free arm. But reading clues off of the shark was difficult when she only had twitches of the head and eye movements to go off of. Her power worked a lot better off of dialogue and this whole mute-thing was putting a damper on that. The shark may have agreed to cooperate, but that didn't mean she could trust it.

_-will try to escape the instant it gets the chance-_

_-won't hesitate to kill-_

Definitely couldn't trust the shark monster. But there were six of them here (plus one unconscious Cat). They could take the risk.

"Release his arm," she said to Weld.

Weld looked at her. "Are you serious?"

"He knows sign language and he's willing to cooperate." She paused, then added, "Just don't give him any opportunities and we'll be fine."

"Don't give him any opportunities and we'll be fine," Clockblocker repeated, "Oh, sure."

"Weld," Lisa said, addressing the one who mattered here, "Please. You want to know the truth as much as me or anyone else here."

Weld was just as difficult to read as the shark. It took him a while to come to a decision, but when he did, he only gave a short nod and said, "Okay."

He moved toward the shark chimera, got up to its chest and stared it down face-to-face. He was in biting range. Tempting the monster to try.

"If you try anything," Weld said, his voice low, "You won't lose just an arm."

The shark stared back, unmoving.

Weld frowned, but went to reabsorb the metal bar holding the shark's arm against the wall. It took a minute to get it free, the metal had been dug in deep.

Everyone watched with an air of tension, ready for a fight to break out.

Weld pulled the last bar off and stepped back. The shark didn't move, not until Weld was out of arm's reach. Once the metal man had cleared out, though, the shark chimera extended its hand outward.

An audible pop of bones stretching, the shark rotated its wrist and then pulled the hand up over its head.

"Watch it," Clockblocker said, his gauntlet raised and ready.

The shark froze, not from the Clockblocker's power, but like a child caught stealing from the cookie bowl. Slowly, it brought the arm back down. The shark's fingers wiggled again and it turned to look at Lisa.

"Done stretching?" she asked.

The hand formed a fist and dipped up and down. _Yes._

"Then back to my question. What are you?"

 _Can't say. Can **not.**_ It jabbed the last sign out.

Lisa's eyes narrowed. "Come up with a way."

The shark’s hand signed quickly, making up for the absence of its usual partner. _Okay. Down hallway, third left, twelfth door on right. Room. Truth there._

Lisa relayed the directions aloud to her teammates.

"That's far," Opal noted, "300 meters give or take."

Lisa grimaced. "A good distance to separate us."

The shark gave a one-handed shrug.

Lisa studied the chimera closely, her eyes scrutinizing every detail, the bend of the fingers, the pull of its biceps, anything and everything that could reveal a hidden tell. After stressing on her power for a good ten seconds, Lisa had nothing to show for it. No hint of deception or scheme.

Of course, it wouldn't be the first time Lisa's power made a mistake. But then, if she didn't trust her own power, then what was the point in having it?

"The shark's telling the truth," Lisa said.

"Yeah?" Shadow Stalker spoke up for the first time in as many minutes, "How sure are you on that?"

Leave it to Sophia to raise the challenge. Lisa smiled at her. "I'm sure."

"Very well," Opal said, "In that case, we'll need to split up. Tattletale, Weld and I will proceed to the room while Clockblocker and Shadow Stalker watch over Cat and our captive."

Lisa wanted to contradict the woman, if only to retake control of this team, but it wasn't worth it. The split was pretty much what she would have done as well. "Fine," she said. Lisa gave another look back at the shark and added, "Anything else we need to know about the room? Locks? Booby traps?"

The shark gave a short laugh, its jaw shuddering against the metal bars. _No. But don’t make mess. Room is nostalgic._

"No promises," Lisa said, she turned to leave when a voice caught up to her.

"Wait."

Lisa looked back over her shoulder.

Cat had pushed herself up into a sitting position. Bandages were wound tight around her head, covering an eye. But the one eye that remained glared at Lisa, burning with steely determination.

"I'm coming with you," Cat said.

* * *

Weld pulled Cat up, taking her arm over his shoulder, keeping her steady as she walked haphazardly forward. Cat’s head still spun with stars and she felt like puking, but she kept it together. She focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

Cat had expected someone to say no. For Tattletale to tell her to stay out of it, for Opal to tell her it was classified, for Weld to say it was for her own good if she stayed. But no one stopped her. They all seemed to understand this was not something that could be kept from her.

They walked down the hallway, slowed by Cat's limp. She didn’t care. She would have crawled there if she had to.

There was less of dust in this section. Just a little detail Cat noticed what with her eyes fixed on the floor and her feet dragging. Less dust, meant people - chimeras - had been here.

Had been. Past tense. The hallways were empty and without sound, no sign of any life beside them. But after Cat's brush with death, the silence wasn't exactly reassuring.

Finally they came to a door. The door. The room the shark said would hold the truth.

Cat stared at it. It seemed like any other door. Nothing special at all.

Tattletale lay a palm flat against the surface - not on the knob - and felt the grain of the material.

"Not booby-trapped," Tattletale said, “But can’t say for certain what’s behind it.”

"I'll go in first," Weld said, "Just in case."

No one argued with that. Cat was shifted to Opal’s shoulder and the three of them waited on the wings as Weld approached the door. He stopped before it, his fists clenched. Then he pushed the door open.

It was a large room, big enough to fit a house. The ceiling stretched up above and the floor was dirt. Real dirt, the sort that did not belong in a facility so otherwise clean. Weld stepped inside, looking around. It was dark, but he could still make out mountainous lumps all around him. They were motionless mounds of… something.

“Opal,” Weld said, “I need light.”

Light poured into the room. Opal stepped inside, her hand glowing bright and shortly after, Tattletale and Cat followed.

The “mountains” were draped with cloth, covering up what really lay beneath. Weld approached one mass, took a fistful and pulled. The sheet came tumbling down, revealing wrought steel. A cage. A whole stack of them.

Another sheet was pulled down, this one at the hands of Tattletale. Then another by Cat. They each moved around the room, stripping the mountains to reveal the bare metal skeletons underneath.

Stacks of cages pressed against the walls and zig-zagged in maze-like fashion. They came in a variety of sizes and types. Heavy iron bars for the large ones, wire mesh for the smaller, a few glass tanks here and there. All of them were empty, but a scent lingered. It was the smell of dried droppings, unwashed fur and raw fear.

They stared at the maze of cages without a word to one another. Opal quietly calculating, Tattletale muttering to herself, Weld clenching and unclenching his fists and Cat…

Cat closed her eyes, breathed the air and remembered.

The smell had been worse. Much worse.

There was the piss, the shit, and the blood. More of it and fresher, but that wasn’t the worst of it. The truly vile stench - the one that made Cat’s stomach curl - that was the stench of death.

In every cage, animals lay starved and dehydrated. Disease took some of them, made their skin turn black and their fur fall off. And then after eyes rolled back into skulls and breath left them for the last time, they were simply abandoned. No burial, no removal or cleaning.

Just left to rot.

“Cat.” A hand fell on her shoulder and Cat jumped. She had her feet underneath her again and the smell was gone. She whipped around, teeth bared and saw it was only Weld. The metal man had a worried look on his face.

“You okay?” he asked.

Cat didn’t answer. She pulled away from him and started to walk.

He didn’t chase after her, didn’t say anything more.

Her feet moved on their own. She went around a huge aquarium-like tank and came to a pile of cages. Atop an enclosed iron crate and buried under a stack birdcages was a cat carrier. The plastic sides were marred and scratched and the metal door had been worn to rust, but even through all the wear and tear, Cat recognized it.

Cat reached for the carrier, grabbed it, felt the grit and grime coating it. She stared for a moment longer. Thoughts, emotions and urges warred inside her, none that made sense, most not even in the form of words, but in the primal feelings that used to govern her. With a heave, Cat wrenched the carrier free from the stack and everything above toppled free, cages spilled down with a crash. Cat ignored it, ignored the shouted cries of her comrades startled by the noise.

Cat raised the carrier to her face, looked inside of it, saw the claw marks etched deep into the plastic, saw the layers of filth that remained.

And she remembered who she was.


	16. Cradle - Five

"I'm not sure I can approve of this, Mira."

Mira sighed, brushing back a strand of her long blond hair. Usually she kept her hair tied up in a ponytail, a style she liked because it made her daily jogs easier. Today though, she had let down her hair and kept it down, she was too exhausted for running.

"You can't approve?" Mira said. She glanced at her friend, Sam. And saw that the other woman was grinning. It was an impish look. Given her slender frame and short hair, she might have actually been a pixie in a past life.

"No, I can't,” Sam said. “I wouldn't be much of a friend if I just _let_ you become a crazy cat lady, now would I?"

"Oh come on, it's just one cat."

"And that's how it always starts. It's just one cat, then it's just one more. And then one more and then a dozen, cause why not."

Mira placed a palm on her forehead. "Sam, I promise you, I am not going to become a crazy cat lady."

Sam’s grin widened. "Well, no you won't. Not while I'm around. I'll keep you sane."

Mira rolled her eyes which was really all that needed to be said to _that_. She turned her attention elsewhere, to the adolescent girl patrolling the shelter’s shelves of kittens. Glass walls set over linoleum cubbies kept the kittens inside, but they didn’t seem to mind, they studied the girl as curiously as she did them.

"How's it coming along, sweetie?" Mira called out.

"Good, mom!" the girl replied, not even looking back.

"You see any you like, yet?"

"Yes, mom."

"You make up your mind, yet?"

"Nooooo, moooom."

Mira gave Sam a look, a silent "see-what-I-put-up-with?"

Sam smirked back.

The two friends watched as the girl prowled the shelves of cats. The girl practically vibrated with excitement, sticking her face up against the glass as fascinated as a scientist discovering a new species.

"Val seems to be doing better," Sam said in a quiet voice.

Mira nodded. "Yeah, she is."

"And what about you?"

"Fine."

Sam gave Mira a nudge. "Come on."

Mira chuckled, shaking her head. "Really, I'm fine. Not great, not terrible. Just fine. I am accepting my new normal."

"Really? Seriously?"

"What? Why is that so hard to believe?"

"It's not hard to believe at all, it's just so _you_. You are _too_ well put together. Just this once, I wanted to be the one to help _you_ out."

"For your information, I did have a moment of insanity. Real wall-blasting screaming insanity."

"But just a _moment?_ I'd still be pissed if I was you."

Mira sighed. "Believe me." She took in a deep breath. "I still am."

"Ah shit." Sam put a hand to her mouth, her cheeks flushing. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, like I said. It's fine."

"Sure, sure, I get it."

They went silent and resumed watching Val. The girl had examined just about every cat in the shelter, there were only a few left for her to consider, but that only seemed to make her go slower.

"Mira," Sam spoke up, "You know I'll always be there for you, right?"

"Yes," Mira smiled. "I know, Sam."

"And if you ever need to hide a body or anything..."

Mira rolled her eyes.

"Or if you'd rather someone else take care of the asshole-who-shall-not-be-named..."

"Sam, that's-"

"Mom!" Val shouted from the end of the room. "Mom, I know which ones I want to get!"

Mira smiled and went to her girl, happy to get away from that conversation. "Alright, sweetie, which one are we looking at?"

"Here. Look." Val pointed.

Mira bent down and looked through the glass. Inside, lying upon a bed of newspapers were two ginger kittens. They were entwined, little paws hugging each other and their heads nuzzled together. Cute was an understatement. Mira felt her heart throb just at the sight of them.

"I know you said we're only getting one, mom, but-"

"Nevermind that, sweetie." Mira stood up, eyes clenched tight, trying to imprint the image permanently in her brain. "We'll get them both."

Val gasped. "Really?!"

Mira nodded, still suffering the effects of cuteness overload. "Yes, really."

"You're the best, mom!" Val jumped up and hugged her.

Mira hugged her daughter back, and as she did, she spied Sam out of the corner of her eye.

Sam silently mouthed two words at her.

_Cat. Lady._

* * *

Mira set the groceries down on the counter and started unloading her haul. Tonight’s dinner was going to be beef stroganoff. She glanced at her daughter who was sitting on the floor, still playing with the kittens they had picked up today. “So have you thought of some names, sweetie?”

Val lifted one of the kittens up to her face. She had the biggest grin Mira had ever seen. “This one is Katya.”

“Katya.” Mira forced a smile on, but inside she was groaning.

“Yup!”

“Well, I guess, it’s fine.”

“It’s the perfect name, mom, and you know it.”

“Mmmm. What about the other one?”

Val set Katya down and bent over the other kitten. The little feline was currently tugging at Val’s shirt, trying to climb her way up, but she didn’t quite have the strength to manage it.

“What do you think of Anya?”

“Anya.” Mira nodded. “I like that one. Nice normal name, no silly pun.”

Val grin grew wider as if Mira had said something funny. “Yeah, mom, no pun at all.”

The little brat knew something Mira didn’t. Mira shook her head. Whatever, it was fine like this. So long as Val was having a good time. “Come on, sweetie, wash your hands and help me out with the cooking.”

“What? Mooom, what about the kitties?”

“Give them some time to get used to this place without you. Don’t worry, we’ll keep an eye out they don’t get into any trouble. Now come on, help me out.”

Val sighed and got to her feet, trudging with exaggerated steps to the kitchen.

Mira gave her a pat on the head and guided her to some vegetables that needed cutting. She glanced at the two kittens, saw that they were engaged in a little tussle that was more akin to a nuzzling contest. She couldn’t help but smile.

This was fine. They were doing just fine.

* * *

“No! Harry, just stop! I don’t want you calling this number any more. This is harassment, okay? This is _fucking_ harassment. Don’t push me, Harry.”

Val closed her eyes and stuck her head under the pillow. The cloth and foam muffled her mother’s voice a little.

The phone call had started with a hushed whisper, mom hadn’t wanted Val to hear. But only a minute later and that had been forgotten, mom was at full-blown yelling.

Val hated this. Hated how the divorce kept rearing its ugly head at her no matter where she turned, no matter how much time seemed to pass. Some days she wished she could just forget it all, and never have to go back. Be someone else. But she couldn’t. This was her life now.

Something jumped onto her bed, brushed past her arm and sidled close. Katya, Val knew without even looking. The ginger cat slipped underneath the pillow and nuzzled her face to Val’s. The cat’s breath tickled Val’s nose.

Val giggled. “Ugh, Kat, your breath stiiinks.”

Katya didn’t care, she pressed closer and licked at Val’s cheeks.

“God, you are so nosy,” Val whispered. “Can’t even let me be miserable for five seconds before you come butt in.”

Katya as usual, wasn’t paying attention to anything Val said. The cat turned her head and buried it in the crook of Val’s chin. Katya’s eyes drooped closed and Val could hear the low purr that signalled the cat was falling asleep.

Val smiled and readjusted herself, careful not to disturb the sleeping cat. She wrapped her arms around Katya, pressed her face into the fur and closed her eyes. The steady beat of the cat’s heart drowned out the phonecall entirely. It was not long before Val had drifted off as well.

* * *

Mira put her head in her hands. She needed to handle this carefully. Very, very carefully.

She took in a deep breath, and peeked at what lay on the counter. A a dark-blue jacket covered most of the marble, but it was the other item, much smaller that caught her attention. A plastic baggie with lush green mushed together inside.

Mira liked to think she was a cool mom. That she was down with it. She had smoked before, back in college when everyone was doing it. It was the seventies, so sue her. But Mira had never made it a habit, never carried a bag with _this_ much weed. And as much as Mira knew that weed was non-addictive, that it wasn’t the poison the government had made it out to be, she had also done her research. She knew that weed could have harmful effects for a child’s developing brain.

And Val was very much still developing. She was only a sophomore in high school for God’s sake. Val hadn’t even had her first boyfriend yet.

Or at least Mira was _pretty sure_ Val hadn’t gotten a boyfriend yet. She swallowed nervously. Maybe the weed was just the tip of an iceberg, maybe she didn’t know her daughter at all.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of orange as a cat hopped up onto the counter. Mira smiled at the sight of her.

“Hey, Anya.”

Anya prowled towards the plastic baggie and stared at it with an intense confusion.

“Yeah,” Mira said, “my thoughts, exactly.” She sighed. “I don’t know what to do.”

Anya sat on her hind legs and looked up at Mira, unblinking.

“Do I go with fire and brimstone? Come down hard like the wrath of God? Or do I… do I try to play it cool? I mean, I knew this was going to happen eventually. Maybe, I don’t even say anything. Pretend like I didn’t see it. Give her... space.”

Anya sneezed and shook her head. She shot an accusing look at the baggie.

Mira laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. That’s dumb. I can’t just leave it alone. I gotta say… something.” Her head went into her hands again. “Ugh, what do I say?”

Anya stared at Mira for a moment, her tail swishing back and forth. 

Mira laughed again. “Right, sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. You’re just a cat.”

As if to agree, Anya got to her paws and hopped down from the counter, going off to do whatever cats did.

Mira sighed and went to get her phone. She dialed Sam. Even if Sam didn’t help at all (which was often the case), she’d at least help Mira feel better. The call connected.

“Hey Mira, what’s up?”

“Hey Sam. I uh, I’d like some advice.”

“Really?”

“Really, really.”

“Oh yes, you know I am ready to help. I am…” Sam paused. “Actually let me just ask one thing first.”

Mira blinked. “What?”

“I’m the first person you called, right?”

“What? Of course! Sam, what-”

“And I’m the first person you asked for advice?”

Mira bit her lip. “Yes, you are.”

“Hmmm. Am I the first living _thing_ that you talked to about this?”

“Um.”

“God damnit, Mira, you crazy cat lady.”

Mira flushed red. “It’s not like that!”

* * *

Val rubbed her arms, fighting back the cold that sought to seep into her bones. She was properly bundled up, coat, pants, scarf, mittens and hat, but even so, the cold was gradually eating away at her. There was only so long one could stand outside before the cold caught up to them.

The parking lot to the bus station didn’t have a lot of traffic. Past Christmas and New Year’s there was no more need for anyone to travel. The parking lot was pretty much empty. Which Val supposed was a good thing. But that didn’t settle her nerves at all.

She froze as she heard a police siren off in the distance. Her ears strained, trying to determine in that split second whether the sound was heading towards or away from her.

It was the latter. She let out a breath, the steam billowing out from her lips.

Another sound drew her attention though, the crunch of tires on snow, a car was slowly approaching her. A car straight out of the seventies with the faded paint job to match. Her dad’s Camaro.

The car rolled up next to her and she went to the window.

The tinted glass peeled back a fraction.

“What are you doing, kid? Hurry up and get in,” Harry said.

“Oh right, sorry.” Val went around the other side, fumbled at the handle with frozen fingers until the door popped open on its own.

Her dad leaned over the seat. “Come on,” he said, waving for her, “stop messing around.”

“Sorry,” Val mumbled. She ducked into the car and pulled the door shut behind her.

“Damn, it’s cold, huh?” Harry said.

“Yeah,” Val said, rubbing at her arms again. She glanced sideways at her dad. The man hadn’t changed much since she had last seen him. The same crew cut, the same hard jaw line, the same meaty arms that were only barely held in by his jacket.

Harry caught her looking and he grinned at her. He had big pearly white teeth.

“So, how’s my little girl doing?”

“I’m fine, dad. I’m not a little girl.”

“Ah, sure you ain’t. How about school?”

“I’m doing good.”

“Yeah? How about those girls you were telling me about? You make friends with’em?”

Val smiled a little. “Yeah. I think I did.”

“That’s right, yeah you did. Good job, kiddo.” He reached over and mussed at her hair.

“Dad!” She swatted at him. “Stop!”

He pulled back, hands up and grinning. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you off this time.”

For a moment, they didn’t say any more, just sharing a smile between them.

“God,” Harry shook his head, “You grew up big.”

Val rolled her eyes. “Dad…” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I won’t say no more. Just your old man talking to himself.”

Val looked away, not just with exasperation at how sappy her dad was being, but to hide the red that tinged her cheeks.

“You know I want you to do well.”

“Dad, I know.”

“And you tell me if anybody starts giving you trouble. Any boys hounding you?”

“Dad, I’m fine. And there’s no boys. None.”

“You can’t trust boys at that age, Val. They-”

“Dad! I get it, please.”

“Alright, alright.” Harry sat back in his seat. He let out a sigh before speaking again. “I’m glad you made friends with those girls.”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal.”

“And they liked the stuff I gave you?”

Val bit her lip. “Yeah, uh, they did.”

“Damn straight they did, that was some quality kush.”

Val shifted in her seat, rubbing at her arms again. “Yeah, it was good.”

Harry glanced at her. “You gonna need more?”

“Oh, maybe? There’s not a lot left.”

“Yeah?” Harry smiled. “Well, I can hook you up, but you need to tell those girls that _only_ the first taste was free. If they want more - and believe me, they’re gonna want more - tell’em it’s gonna cost’em.”

Val blinked. “What?”

“Y’know. That stuff was expensive. I don’t mind shelling out for my girl, but there’s operating costs to consider. You bring those girls another baggie, and you tell’em the price is twenty-five bucks a gram. Then you bring the money back to me and I’ll get you more.”

Val stared at her dad not saying anything.

“And don’t worry, you’ll get a cut, too.” Harry grinned at her with his big pearly teeth. “I take care of my girl.”

Nausea swelled up inside Val. It nearly overwhelmed her, nearly made her puke right then and there. She choked it back and turned for the door. Her fingers fumbled at the handle, and this time it wasn’t because of the cold.

“Hey,” Harry said. “What’s going on? Take it easy. What are you doing?”

She finally managed to pull the handle and door popped open. Cold air blasted into Val’s face and she stumbled out.

“Hey!” Harry shouted, “Hey! Val! Where you going?”

She didn’t respond, just wobbled away from the car. Away from the man she called dad.

“Val!” the man yelled, his voice taking on an ugly tone. “Don’t say a word about this to your mother! Not a word!”

Val didn’t respond. Didn’t look back. Just kept walking into the snow.

* * *

The girl sobbed, her breathing coming in shakes. She had taken to her bed, buried herself under the pillow.

Crying. The human girl was crying.

Cat did not like that. The girl was good. She fed Cat. She gave good pets. Not too hard, and not too much the way the human woman did, but just right. The girl was nice. Warm. Cat liked the girl.

Cat hopped onto the bed, clambered atop the girl’s prone form and tread a circle on her back. The girl did not react. Odd. The girl should have said something. Or laughed or made to pet her. But no, the girl did nothing. Just kept sobbing.

Cat ceased circling. Sat for a moment on the girl. With each passing breath, the girl would tremble and the vibrations would travel through Cat. A somewhat pleasant sensation.

But that wasn’t important. The human girl was upset. That was no good.

Cat hopped down and crawled alongside the girl. The girl liked to stick her head under the pillow whenever she was upset. Cat could understand that desire, but it made comforting the girl a chore. The pillow was especially tight today, the girl was pulling it down over her head with both hands. Nevertheless, Cat made it fit, her face popped in just under the girl’s chin.

“Kat, please. Just leave me alone.” The girl turned her head, moving her chin away from Cat.

Stupid human girl. Couldn’t she see that Cat was trying to help? Cat extricated herself out from the pillow, hopped to the girl’s other side and stuck her face under the pillow again, putting her nose against the girl’s lips.

The girl flinched and gagged. “Kat, stop it,” she whined, “leave me alone.”

She turned her head again. She was a _very_ stupid human.

But she was Cat’s human.

Cat hopped over once more and stuck her head under the pillow, nuzzling her face with the girl’s.

“God,” the girl said, “you don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Cat rubbed her cheek back and forth over the girl’s. There was some wetness from the girl’s tears, but Cat did not mind. So long as the girl kept still, Cat could impart some warmth to her.

Slowly, the girl began to smile. No longer sobbing. She gave Cat’s head a scratch and it was good. Just the right length and depth. The human girl gave the best scratches.

Cat let out a soft purr.

“I’m an idiot, Kat,” whispered the girl, “A total idiot.”

Cat pushed into the girl’s hand, urging the scratching to continue. And of course, the girl obliged.

“What should I do?”

Cat shook her head a little and the girl took the hint, she stopped scratching immediately.

Fitting because something else demanded the girl’s attention. A knock at the door and the woman’s voice going through it.

“Sweetie? Can we talk?”

* * *

“That _piece of shit_. That fucking shitstain scumbag. Tried to push his own daughter. _My_ daughter. Into dealing _drugs_.”

“Holy shit,” Sam said. She stared at Mira who was pacing back and forth through the living room, looking as though she’d much rather be sprinting than pacing.

“Yeah,” Mira said, throwing her hands up, “Yeah, that was my _first_ reaction. Just pure fucking shock. Like the goddamn nerve of him. What the hell is the thought process there? Like how broken as a human being do you have to be to pull some shit like that?”

“I’ve been saying it since forever, Mira. He’s a lizard person. A cold-blooded heartless reptile.”

“That’s an insult to reptiles everywhere. He is…” Mira’s hands came up gesturing incomprehensible things and she gasped, “He’s worse! He is _the worst._ ”

“Hah, yeah.” Sam shook her head, feeling muted. Sam had always wanted to see what Mira was like when she lost it. It was not as fun as Sam thought it would be.

“So,” Sam said, “what are you going to do?”

Mira stopped in her tracks. “God, I don’t know. I… I really don’t. If I go to the police with this will Val get dragged into it?”

“Maybe, but she’s a minor, Mira. And she never sold anything. The worst she’ll get is possession and as a minor, she should only get a slap on the wrist.”

“Yeah, but I’d be putting her through the process. I’m not sure if I want to subject her to that.”

Sam bit her lip. Out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the cats sitting in the doorway, watching her. Was it Anya or Katya? Sam always got the two mixed up. Then she remembered Katya was the one with the white belly. Which meant this was Anya.

The cat just sat there, its stare tracking Mira as the woman paced the room.

Sam closed her eyes and let out a breath. No more distracting herself. Mira really did need her help now.

“If you go to the police, if Val tells them everything, it might push _him_ out of your life for good,” Sam said.

Mira stopped, looked over her shoulder at Sam.

“He’ll go to jail. You’ll be able to get that restraining order you’re always talking about.”

Mira nodded once and stuck her thumbnail between her teeth, nibbling at it.

Sam didn’t say any more. Just sighed and let her friend digest the possibility. This was a big leap. Harry was scum and no one deserved prison more than him. But he was also Val’s dad. The girl had gone to see him even when his visitation rights had long been revoked. How would this affect Val? Could she really bear testifying against her own father?

At the doorway, the cat rose to its paws and began to walk away, tail swishing back and forth.

Sam watched the cat leave, not really paying attention. Her mind was elsewhere. Sam prayed that Val could step up. The sooner Harry was out of Mira and Val’s life the better things would be for the both of them.

* * *

Cat found her favorite spot in the house already occupied. Sister lay curled just under the radiator, atop the matte blanket the humans had set out. She had the center position at just the right distance, not too far from the the heat, and not too close to be burned. Cat stared at Sister enviously.

Sister opened half an eye and peered up at her. Sister let out a long contented purr, so long, so content that Cat suspected only half of it was genuine.

Cat scrunched her nose up. If that was how Sister wanted to be, then Cat wouldn’t play nice either.

She prowled up on Sister, drawing the other cat’s attention. Sister’s ears perked up and both eyes opened, she watched as Cat approached step by step.

Cat stopped, standing just over Sister. Their eyes locked for a moment.

Cat flopped atop Sister, wrapping paws around her and squeezing. Sister hissed and twisted, tried to buck her off, but Cat was not going anywhere. Nothing could stop Cat from hugging Sister.

The two of them turned over, flipping head over tail and Cat’s butt smacked into the floor. She came loose, no longer hugging Sister.

Sometimes Cat forgot how good Sister was at tussling. And neither did Sister, for she wasted no time pouncing on Cat. They turned and tumbled away from the radiator, the heat of battle keeping them more than warm enough. It was never serious, though. They nibbled, they scratched, but nothing ever cut deep. It was all a game.

One that Sister usually won. Sister stood over Cat's prone form, basking in victory. But Cat did not let her defeat bring her down. She had gotten better, she was sure of it.

Sister meowed at Cat, but before she could respond, there was a sound. The shuffle of footsteps in the direction of the door. Both cat's turned to stare at the entryway.

The footsteps did not sound familiar. Not the woman’s. Not the girl’s. Someone else’s entirely. The footsteps were heavier, the gait longer.

They stopped at the door.

Sister hissed, the hairs on her back rising.

There was another sound. Fainter. Quiet enough that even Cat had trouble hearing it. A scraping of metal against metal. And then a click.

The door swung open.

A human man strode into the house. He was big and muscular. He wore heavy boots that clomped with each step. In one hand was a large red canister that sloshed with liquid, in the other was a crooked piece of steel.

He stopped as he saw Cat.

Cat meowed at him.

The man shook his head. "Fucking cats. She got fucking cats. I should've known."

Cat meowed again. She sniffed at the air and smelled something familiar. The man had a lot of strange and new smells to him, but there was one familiar to Cat. The girl's smell.

Beside her, Sister continued to hiss, but Cat began to approach the man. If the man had the girl's smell, then he couldn't be so bad.

Cat went to the man, and rubbed her head along the back of his leg. The denim of his jeans was a good material for rubbing.

But the man yanked his boot away. "Fuck off," he said.

Cat understood none of his words. She went for the man's leg again.

"Stupid cat, I said, fuck off!" The boot yanked back again, but this time it returned. Swift. Hard. It kicked Cat in the side, carried her up and then left her entirely as she was sent flying away.

Cat smacked onto the floor and felt an eruption of pain. The hurt radiated from her chest and spread to every inch of her body. Her legs wouldn't move. She could barely breathe.

She opened her mouth, tried to make a noise, but nothing came out. All she could do was watch straight ahead, not even her head capable of turning.

She watched as Sister leapt up with a hissed battlecry. She watched as Sister clawed and cut at the man's arm. She watched as the man shouted and jumped and tried to peel Sister off of him. The red container fell from his hands and a clear liquid gushed out from the end.

Bloody gouges had been cut into the man's arm, but it did not seem to slow him down. The man raised up the crooked piece of steel and pointed it at Sister.

Cat closed her eyes. It was so hard to breathe.

She heard an explosion, a loud _bang_.

And then it was too much, Cat blacked out.

* * *

Cat turned her head and let out a low purr. The radiator was especially warm today. Cat curled tighter around herself.

A spark fell on her backside and she yelped. Her eyes snapped open and she started to hop to her paws when a twinge of pain in her abdomen got her to stop. She gasped, but that turned into a cough. She buckled on unsteady legs and felt panic overwhelm her as everything just seemed to go wrong.

The whole world was on fire. Flames surrounded her on all sides and above her, the smoke pooled into an inky black cloud.

Cat coughed again. She needed to get out of here. If she stayed she would die. She started to get to her paws, but faltered again. The pain spiked in her chest.

It took all Cat had not to collapse right then and there. She took a moment to catch her breath. The air was running thin and her chest ached, but after a moment, she breathed. It was a start.

Moving as though her bones were made of jelly, Cat pulled herself up.

There. On her paws.

The flames crackled all around her. Cat squinted with her eyes, felt the moisture being wicked away from them.

She had to go now. Had to run.

Cat pushed forward with a few steps and the pain returned as swift as if she had dove into the flames themselves. Cat paused for a second and swallowed the pain. She couldn't waste time feeling it. Through the crackle of flames, she could hear the groaning of wood. The whole house was going to collapse soon.

Had to get out. Had to run.

Cat limped on, soldiering through the pain that ratcheted up with each and every step. _Stay down_ , her body demanded, but Cat would not let it.

 _Run_ , Cat thought.

When her paws slipped or her breath caught or her body ached, _Run_ was the thought that overrode all else. It was what kept her alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long with this chapter. And sorry for ending it on a semi-cliffhanger. This chapter just kept ballooning in size.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it. Next chapter is partially written. It should come faster. Maybe.


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